Pull My Hair
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: Susan was just trying so survive when she got caught up in something greater - Negan, the Sanctuary's politics, the threat of war, and love.
1. The Wanderer

Susan was tired already. She was never one of the outdoorsy type anyway despite her old job being an advocate for environmental protection. No matter how often she did it, she would never be used to being on the road by herself at the end of the world. It was one of the reasons why she usually found a group or a community for a little while; she needed to have a brief respite: get some more food, water, medicine, bullets, other precious supplies. Then she would always leave.

At first, she didn't make a point of leaving, but life forced her hand. One of the first large groups she had found had been terrible. Composing mostly of men, they made far too many attempts to get into her pants, and feeling too uncomfortable and unsafe to sleep she slipped out one night and ran away with a backpack full of goods so she could make it on her own.

For a while she was fine – they hadn't even bothered to pursue her – but she spent too many nights awake, waiting for danger. After that she found another group, but the group was dissolving at the seams when she joined them. They didn't have a community, and roamed around much as she had done. The area they were scouting lacked supplies and they were forced to disperse to find enough food for themselves.

Again, Susan was on her own and forced to travel long distances. She went north to escape the weather and find areas that haven't already been picked clean; and she ran into another group in South Carolina. Susan was with them for the longest after the end of the world, around three months or so. Among them she had forged friendships and there was this one cute guy named Jay. He was just a friend, and she had been trying to work up the courage to admit her interest to him. Unfortunately, though, as the world and life normally does to Susan when things are looking up and going well – it went to shit.

Mistakes were made somehow – Susan doesn't know how and she doubts she'll ever know – and the Dead came in huge packs. The group was separated by force, and Susan watched Jay get bit before she killed him. It wasn't until later that she realized the cruel irony of the situation. She had crushed the skull of the guy she had had a crush on.

Jay was still human when she killed him, but he wasn't the first human she has killed. Susan wasn't sure how many she has killed, only that she has. It was an effort to forget, so why bother remembering? Sleep was hard enough to come by anyway.

That being her third strike at living with people, Susan struck out on her own, resolved to harden her heart against others. There were bouts of loneliness, of course, moments where she thought she was going crazy. In her heart, though, she firmly believed that isolation was better than making connections with people who were just going to die anyway. Maybe it was her fault that groups fell apart; at this rate, she could believe it.

The fourth time she joined a group was against Susan's will entirely. Susan was too careless, too clumsy, and broke her wrist escaping from the Dead. Fate had quite literally forced her hand (until her wrist broke) to find a community or group for safety. She found one, a group she had been distinctly avoiding once she entered their territory. They were friendly enough, accepted her, but as soon as Susan was able she left. While there she didn't talk much, trying not to make enemies or friends. She succeeded and they let her leave without a fuss.

Winter came and she was in North Carolina, approximately. Not used to the weather and lacking supplies, she fell sick, but this time a group found her. Once she had rested up and gotten over her illness, she left again. By now, she was starting to see how hopping to group to group could benefit her. No attachments, but the benefit of resupplying and resting for a little while. Less of a chance of going crazy by herself, too.

So, when she came to Virginia and stumbled upon a walled community, she decided she would stay for a fortnight. The Hilltop welcomed her, and she was put to work, which she didn't mind at all. Susan only bothered to learn two names: Gregory, the leader of the community who referred to her as 'Sally' or 'Sweetie' and Jesus, the guy she went out on runs with. He taught her a few tricks, but other than that maintained his distance. Though he genuinely cared about the wellbeing of the community as a whole, he kept his distance from people. Susan could appreciate the concept and considered herself lucky that he wouldn't try to get too close to her. She kept her word and left after a fortnight without telling anyone. Additionally, she stole some supplies for herself.

After her stint with the Hilltop, she avoided most people, just in case it was anybody looking for her and the supplies. It was about a month or two – the days blend together after a while when you're alone – and Susan was found by men wearing riot gear on horses. They spoke with shitty 'Ye Olde Englishe' accents and offered her a place at their Kingdom. Running low on water, Susan shrugged and went with them, already making plans to leave in two weeks. She met their King, a rather handsome man, and his tiger, a rather pretty big cat. Physical and emotional distance were required. Some of the knights were nice, like Jerry who made her laugh, but Richard was a bit of a dick. He was suspicious of her. Susan avoided him and enjoyed the cobblers and choir singing for as long as she could. When her two weeks were up she almost changed her mind to stay for a few more days, but she was too afraid. So, again, she left without saying goodbye to anybody; and again, she stole supplies for herself.

That was about three months ago. Susan knew it was three months because it was summer time now, and she had run out of feminine products and needed to go find some more somewhere. Birth control pills had run out long ago. Squinting her nondescript brown eyes into the general direction of the sun, she oriented herself in the direction of a pharmacy. It had been difficult to avoid the Kingdom after she left, but she kept them running in circles and stuck around the area enough to learn a few places. If she headed north, she could find a Walgreens or something, and surely, she could find what she needed there. She would need them soon. Ducking her head down and stubbornly trudging forward, she caught sight of how much browner she was. Well, she had always been brown, but never this dark – and not all of this grime could make her so dark either. Perhaps she should find some sunscreen, too, then.

Susan sighed and continued to walk down the middle of the street. The side of the roads were crumbling, and she'd rather not risk snapping her ankle. Additionally, she would be closer to the tree line, and she didn't want one of the Dead to sneak out and surprise her. She was starting to feel lonely again. On a whim, in an effort to bolster her spirits, she started singing,

 _"_ _Oh, well, I'm the type of guy who will never settle down._

 _Where pretty girls are, well, you know that I'm around._

 _I kiss them and I love them, because to me they're all the same._

 _I hug them and I squeeze them, they don't even know my name._

 _They call me the wanderer. Yeah, the wanderer._

 _I roam around, around, around..."_

She trailed off as she started to cough, stopping for a minute to get her water bottle from her backpack. It was her last one. Another reason she should find some store or pharmacy. The pollen wasn't helping her cough either. Would people think to loot pharmacies for allergy pills? Maybe not and she could get some. Susan perked up when she heard a harsh noise, and with a sigh she took the blunt pipe out of her backpack before she zipped it back up and slung it back on.

One of the perks of being alone was that she could sing without having to argue about the song or lyrics or being told to stop because she was a terrible singer. Of course, there was a downside, like how the Dead just loved her singing and always came running to take a bite of her.

Looking over her shoulder, she spotted one of the Dead lumbering out of the tree line, heading in her direction. It was ugly, dead for some time now, and the Sun had melted its flesh off of its bones until its eyes were gone. It had found her by sound and (ruefully she sniffed her armpit and wrinkled her nose accordingly) smell alone, it seemed. She deliberately continued singing so it could lock in on her location.

 _"_ _Oh, well, I roam from town to town._

 _I go through life without a care._

 _I'm as happy as a clown,_

 _With my two fists of iron and I'm going nowhere."_

Remaining where she stood, she hefted the pipe in her hand experimentally, waiting for it to come closer to her. Susan was bored, there was no other reason for her to do this. Finishing off her water, she gasped appreciatively, and then she neatly chucked it at the Dead and it bounced off its sunken chest. Old Susan would've never littered, but New Susan knew this world was already dead.

As she listened to the Dead's guttural, grating groans growing louder as it hobbled closer, she winced. "Look, buddy, that song I was singing," Susan stepped forward and swung the pipe at its skull, "Was –" Blam! "Not –" Blam! "A duet!" Blam!

The Dead fell lifeless for sure and, for good measure, she flattened his caved-in skull with her heel, grinding it into the hot asphalt of the road. Panting slightly, she glanced down at the sprinkles of blood on her shirt. Damn, she really liked this shirt. Susan swung her pipe, flicking away the extra blood, and picked up singing again.

 _"_ _Oh, well, I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around._

 _I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town,_

 _And when I find myself falling for some girl,_

 _I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world._

 _Yeah, I'm the wanderer. Yeah, the wanderer._

 _I roam around, around, around..."_

Taking all the time in the world, she swung her backpack off again and rummaged through it. Slipping off the spoiled shirt, she wrapped it around the pipe to keep from the blood from staining anything else and stuck it back in her backpack before looking for another shirt. Since showers were limited, changing clothes often was the best way she could prevent herself from getting sick. Thankfully, not a lot of clothes store were looted at the end of the world or even now. Maybe the pharmacy would have a spare scrub shirt or two for her. Not really paying attention, she repeated herself.

 _"_ _Oh, yeah, I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around._

 _I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town,_

 _And when I find myself falling for some girl,_

 _I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world._

 _Yeah, because I'm a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer._

 _I roam around, around, around..."_

Susan trailed off as she thought she heard something. It would be her luck to be more of the Dead, but she couldn't be sure. She sat up straight, hesitantly looking around. It wouldn't do well to be caught with her pants down – or rather, in her case, to be caught with her shirt off. Not hearing anything else, she sang again.

 _"_ _Because I'm a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer._

 _I roam around, around, around..."_

Her head jerked up and this time she knew she heard something as she fell silent. There, there was the sound of engines – multiple trucks. "Oh, great." She shook her backpack and dug around in it faster, but she could see dust stirring just around the bend of the road… Not taking any chances, she booked it for the tree line where the Dead just came from. Just her luck, she tripped over the water bottle that she had thrown at the Dead, and dropped her backpack. Not having time to get it, she continued to run until she reached the cover of the trees. Ducking behind a tree, she prayed that the trucks would just drive by and leave her backpack so she could go back and get it.

That backpack had kept her alive so far and carried a lot of stuff. She had used that backpack in college, and there were still a few decorative patches on it despite its general wear and tear. Even though it was faded, that purple color still stood out on the side of the road, and the Dead one in the middle of the road was just as suspicious. Maybe they wouldn't notice a damn thing if she were lucky, though.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a convoy of trucks came around the curve, and Susan swore that they were going too slow. The longer she watched, the slower the trucks went, until they stopped less than ten or so feet away from her. "Of fucking course, they would," Susan muttered sourly.

At the head of the convoy was a blue pick-up truck, the one made for flinging up mud. Was the truck really blue? There was too much pollen to tell for sure. A really tall man with a mustache – even from the tree line she could tell he was tall and his mustache was huge and black – hopped out of the truck and called to the others, "We're stopping here to refuel!" There was a flurry of activity like an ant-hill that had been stepped on as even more men clambered out of their vehicles, some toting red gas containers as they refueled their respective vehicles.

Already breathing heavy from her impromptu sprint, Susan started to panic. The longer they moseyed around her, the more likely they were to find her. She couldn't leave without her backpack, that had everything she owned. On top of that, she couldn't continue through the woods on foot, defenseless, without a shirt, too. Anxiously, she watched the men and hoped that they wouldn't see the backpack.

One of the men, rather handsomely dressed in a shiny black leather jacket, whistled; and Susan immediately zeroed in on him like a dog. His black hair was slicked back and she immediately thought of _The Outsiders_ and _Grease_. Part of her absentmindedly considered if he could sing and dance. He had a red scarf – an ascot maybe? Like Fred from _Scooby Doo_. More importantly though, he had a wooden baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, so shiny it glinted in the sun and nearly rivaled the shiny glint of his slicked back hair.

Actually, take that back, his smile was the brightest thing on him. Did he loot pharmacies for whitening toothpaste and mouthwash? Dental hygiene seemed important to him. Also, the most important thing on him had to be his smile after she caught sight of it, it contrasted so starkly with his small beard of grey, black, and white. He was like a dream out here, there was no way someone could be so real as him. No one smiled at the end of the world, but there he was as he surveyed the men around him. Mystery man – or rather more affectionately dubbed, Smiling Man – had to be the leader of this little brigade then. Despite her interest, Susan willed Smiling Man to round his boys up and leave this place quickly.

Against her will, though, Smiling Man just paced leisurely, swinging his bat so playfully as if he were a pimp and that was his cane. He came to a stop right at the remains of the Dead she had taken out. The Smiling Man inspected it, pointing his bat at it, with a curious look on his face. His smile was still there, but now he had pinched his tongue between his teeth, evidently thinking hard about how one of the Dead could get its skull flattened so recently when they had not passed any trucks on the road. Susan bit her lip, partly to ward off her anxiety and partly because he looked so particularly handsome with his head cocked like that with his tongue just so.

While she was distracted by Smiling Man, Susan had neglected to pay attention to two men who approached her hiding spot. She didn't notice them until one of them said, "Hurry up and piss, David. I still don't see why you need me out here with you."

Immediately, Susan ducked back around her tree and flattened herself against it as she heard David's answer. "Gary, didn't you hear about what happened to Dwight? Some guy just straight up bit his dick. I don't want one of those things to bite mine off. That's a bad way to go."

"Whatever, David. Just piss."

Susan was nearly about to piss herself. Part of her wanted to laugh about a guy getting his dick bit, but then the rational part of her knew that David and Gary were way too damn close for comfort. David could piss on her for all she knew, he sounded close enough to do it as she heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper.

"Hey, wait, David. Zip it back up, man." Gary's suddenly hushed voice interrupted David before he could even start.

"What, Gary? You see something?"

"Yeah, check out this cool backpack I found." Susan distinctly heard the man rustle around her bag and she had to bite her tongue to keep back her fury. At least he thought her backpack was cool. "David, look at this bloody pipe. It's fresh."

"Those panties look pretty fresh, too." David commented, and Susan hoped to God that he did not just snatch her good panties out of her backpack.

The sound of a baseball bat slamming against something metal – a truck? – interrupted the men's conversation. "Ho! Davey, Gary, you finished jerking each other off yet? We will leave without you slow fucks!"

Susan inhaled sharply. Not Smiling Man. Don't call him over here.

"Negan, we found something!"

Damn! Is that Smiling Man?

"You fuckers better have found some good shit to waste my damn time like this," confirmed Susan's worst fear. Well, not technically worst fear. Smiling Man was attractive after all, but here she was shirtless and not exactly in the best shape of her life.

The crunch of leaves underfoot broke her out of her reverie as she heard the men approach the tree line. "See if you can find some more shit out there for me then. And Davey? Put the fucking panties back in the backpack, you sick fuck. You don't even fucking know where those have fucking been."

When she was a child, Susan use to pretend that she was a tree-nymph. Being one with nature, she could feel its pain. She was a regular tree-hugger hippie. Well now, Susan really wished she could just melt right into a tree. Holding her breath, she scrunched her eyes nearly shut, and watched as both David and Gary passed on either side of her tree, not noticing her at all. Lady Luck, fickle bitch that she was, was on Susan's side for once it seemed. Susan exhaled noiselessly through her mouth, nearly sagging to the floor in relief. Now she had the problem of avoiding being seen when they would come back.

A sudden twig snap startled her, and Susan knew it had to be one of the Dead. Both David's and Gary's heads swung in the direction of the Dead and started towards the noise. Taking that as a sign to slip away, Susan slowly edged out from behind her tree, eyes fixated on the retreated backs of the men. Once they were out of sight, she sighed with relief and then looked away.

And, of course, there was Smiling Man. Keegan? Negan? Yes, that was what they called him. He was inside the tree line like she was, but he hadn't seen her yet. Like the other men, he was examining the contents of her bag, rolling the pipe around in his gloved hand. He only had one gloved hand. The dreaded baseball bat was propped against a tree within easy reach of him.

Debating with herself, Susan considered if this was how she could escape. Smiling Man was tall, but not particularly big as he was very slim. Maybe she could overpower him through surprise, but not without killing him. If she killed him, the group would chase her for revenge she was sure. He was a figure of respect and fear, and killing him would warrant no mercy.

Not seeing any other choice, Susan silently tread forward, taking advantage of his attention being elsewhere, and grabbed the bat. "Please, put the pipe back in the backpack, drop it, and move away." Susan didn't hold the bat threateningly, not wanting to appear too aggressive. Mainly she grabbed it so he wouldn't. His only weapon would be that pipe, she knew. The baseball bat had the advantage of length and distance. She was therefore at the advantage until those men come back or if he screamed. Smiling Man didn't look like a screamer, though, at least not a pussy screamer. Maybe pussy could make him scream… she's getting off track. "Didn't you hear me? Do it now, please. And don't turn around."

She watched as Smiling Man stiffened and slowly turned around, defying her instructions. Once he caught sight of her, he smiled, and God, if she didn't melt into a puddle then. Boy, was Smiling Man living up to his unofficial nickname or what. "Well, hello there. I'm Negan. And you are?"

Racking her brain for something clever to say – clever? Why did she want to impress him – Susan blinked rapidly, testily swinging the bat. "Shirtless. Tired. Hungry. Dehydrated. Hot. Thirsty." She stopped herself before she said something too revealing. "Look, please, just gimme back my backpack and I'll go. Here, I'll trade this for the backpack. I don't have guns or anything good. No pomade for your hair or bleach for your teeth. Nothing. Please gimme the backpack." She lifted the nose of the bat in a pleading gesture, not lifting the bat any higher than knee level to him. It was a little hard to lift the bat one-handed, but her other arm was wrapped protectively around her midsection as a shield.

Surprisingly, despite her loose lips, he was still smiling. "Well fuck," he harshly chuckled, though the sound was rather pleasing to Susan's ear. "I guess you are all of those fucking things. Especially hot, huh?" If it was possible, his smile got even wider, his eyes pleasantly crinkling in the corner. What pretty eyes…focus Susan! "That there that you're holding is Lucille. Be careful with her." He dropped the pipe to the ground to appease her, and Susan lowered the bat again.

Glancing at the bat, Susan didn't bat an eye that he named it. It was a pretty name. Wait, was she envious of the bat? Never mind that now. "Quit stalling, Dapper Dan, and gimme back my stuff, damn it." Her frustration was bleeding through, and she hoped she didn't sound too unfriendly. "The least you can do is pass me the clean shirt from there."

"Fucking dapper, huh? I prefer mind-fucking-numbingly sexy." He was ignoring her now. "I could pass you a fucking shirt, but I'm fucking enjoying the fucking view for fucking free while I fucking can. Besides, I didn't see a fucking shirt in here." He lifted and shook the bad for emphasis, the added effect almost comedic enough to make Susan laugh if she weren't in a hurry.

Remembering her vulnerability again, Susan wrapped her arm over her stomach more tightly. Her breasts she was proud of, but her midsection? Not so much. "Smiling Man, please," Susan let the nickname slip as she grew more desperate. "Don't make this too hard. I'll give you Lucille and those panties for my shirt and the backpack and everything else in it. Let me go." She knew that there had to be a shirt in there.

"I am very hard in general, and as for your fucking offer," he trailed off. Leaning back on his heels as if he were about to fucking limbo, Smiling Man just tilted his head to one side like an adorable puppy dog and smiled at her. "Nope!" He popped the 'p' and quickly glanced behind her. Susan immediately whipped around, raising the bat defensively in case David and Gary had snuck up on her.

In so doing, she lost her upper hand, and Smiling Man pounced on her like a cat. His gloved hand wrestled Lucille away from her grip while his ungloved hand caught her hair and yanked it hard like the reins of a horse. Susan stilled, pliant, hoping he wouldn't rip her head off, and Smiling Man dragged her against his chest, pressing her against him from rear to her head that leaned against his shoulder. She felt his hot breath wash over her face – minty, confirming her suspicions about dental hygiene – and the arousal she had for him flared in interest once more. Against her will, she groaned and hoped it sounded more like genuine frustration that the actual sexual frustration that it was.

"Now, how many fucking nicknames do you have for me?" Smiling Man asked her, dipping his head until his lips nearly brushed against her ear. With one hand in her hair, the other hand Lucille in front of them horizontally like a bar. She held her hands up helplessly as if to ward off Lucille's attack.

"Um, mostly just Smiling Man, Dapper Dan, and right now Asshole." Why did she say that? Well, if she was going to die, she would make the most of it.

"I've heard Asshole before," Smiling Man huffed his laughter directly into her ear and the dampness she felt from his breath was reflected on another part of her anatomy. "But I'm fucking Negan."

Gulping, Susan decided it was her time to die, and what a way to go when she's scared as hell and wet from arousal rather than piss. "Well what if I want to be fucking Negan, too?"

Behind her, Smiling Man tensed, muscles coiling like a snake. Surely, this was the end of Susan. "Well, you can be fucking Negan, too, I guess." He tugged on her brown hair again, more to keep her attention than anything else. "Listen here, you can either be like one of these men – a Savior – where you scavenge for me. You will go by Negan whenever anyone asks." Again, he repeated the tug and Susan felt herself gush in correspondence. She didn't know why the hair-pulling was getting to her, it just was. Maybe it was because of him. "Or you can be one of my wives, and then you'll really be fucking Negan, fucking me."

"Um," Susan hummed. This wasn't what she was expecting. She was ready to die, but now he was offering her career choices. Either she could bring home the bacon or be a trophy wife. Briefly she had the internal struggle of going against the rules she had made, the rules of not staying longer than she has to. But maybe now it was time for a break again, and she could sneak out. Well, if she was going to leave after a fortnight, and this was to be a vacation from the road, then she knew which position she wanted. "I'll fuck you, Negan." Oh, yes, she knew exactly which positions she wanted.

There was one more tug, and Susan felt like she was going to cum. Then Negan promptly released her. "Good fucking girl! I like you, you're fucking smart. Charming, sexy little feisty thing, yeah! You'll fit right in." He spun Susan around and she felt dizzy, this encounter head-spinning for multiple reasons. He was smiling. "Say, what's your name then since you're not gonna be Negan?" Being smart, he stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth mischievously, and his eyes were glittering with good humor. He was too handsome for his own good, or more precisely for Susan's good.

"Uh, Susan." She numbly answered, and her hands came up to wrap around her chest and stomach. This motion wasn't to cover her decency so much as it was to keep the butterflies still in her stomach. Susan told herself it was just normal sexual attraction. No romantic feelings, no problem. Fucking him for two weeks couldn't make her love him. She'd caught how he said wives, plural, too. There was no way she could make that much of an impression that he'd care so much when she leaves.

With fluid grace, Negan scooped up her backpack and handed it back to her. "Well, uh Susan – can I call you Suzie?"

"No." She answered him shortly, gratefully accepting her backpack.

"How about Suzie Q?"

"No, I've heard all that noise before. No thanks." Taking her eyes off of him again, she started searching for her extra shirt. Did she really not have one? She could've sworn she had at least one cute red one.

"What about Sue?" Negan asked, watching her intently, gently tapping Lucille against the heel of his boot.

Susan paused, remembering how she was singing when the trucks started to roll up. There was no way that he knew that. "I would prefer Susan."

"Well you had a billion and fucking one nicknames for me. Turnabout is only fair play, Susan." He waited a moment and then continued, "You don't got a fucking shirt, do ya? Told ya."

Trying not to whine, Susan answered, "Well, I thought I did, I'm sorry."

"That's fucking fine with me, Susan. But I don't think you'd want everyone to see your girls, so here." Negan started to unzip his jacket, and Sue's mouth watered. Funny, she thought all the moisture in her body had gone to wet her other pair of lips. As soon as he was standing there in his white shirt – sans leather jacket – tucking his red scarf into the back pocket of his pants, Susan confirmed that he was particularly slim and still all the more handsome. "Wear this until we get to the Sanctuary." Like a fucking gentleman, he handed her his black leather jacket.

"Sanctuary?" Susan parroted back to him as she pulled the jacket on. It fit her entire wrong. It was too long, but couldn't hang over her too-big ass, so instead it bunched up on her hips. She could barely manage to zip it and she didn't want to risk breaking the jacket of her new husband when she had just met him, so her 'girls' as he put it were still practically handing out. The enjoyable part was how the sleeves came down to her the palms of her hands, her fingertips and too-long nails just hanging out. That was the only part she could deem attractive to him in her eyes. Honestly, she's surprised he proposed marriage and seemed agreeable to fuck her. Maybe her luck was turning around.

"Yes, Sanctuary. You're new home, Susan." Negan's eyes roved over her form once more and he snickered. Her stomach dropped correspondingly, ego plummeting just as low. "You look fucking cute." Stomach and ego returned to their places, and Susan relaxed at her false alarm. She didn't want her vacation cut short because he found her lacking as a wife. That would make escaping harder.

"Okay then, dear husband," she lightly sassed him. Susan clutched her backpack to her chest and looked up at him, admiring his smile. "Take me home."


	2. The Smiling Man

The ride back to her new home was only slightly uncomfortable. When she and Negan came out of the woods, the men didn't seem that surprised. It made her wonder just how many wives and girlfriends and mistresses Negan had. But she figured the more the better. A quick fuck was all she could afford, not jealousy. David and Gary came back shortly after, and Susan remembered how one of them pawed her panties. She frowned at them.

She ended up riding with Negan in the blue pickup truck – head of the convoy of course. Susan was wedged between her new husband and his best friend/second in command, Simon. That was the tall guy with a mustache she had seen earlier. Getting a closer look at him only confirmed that he was a pretty big guy. She assumed that Simon was Negan's best friend only because the way they talked to each other over her head was so ridiculous that Susan found herself holding back her laughter, not wanting to upset either of them. In their truck between the two who sniped at each other agreeably enough, it was a bit of close fit. Due to how large Simon's muscular thighs were, Susan's even larger (though admittedly less muscular) thighs competed for the limited space by leaning more on Negan's side. Despite his obvious promiscuity, she doubted she would be allowed the same luxury. It was pretty lucky that Negan was a slim guy, then.

Once they reached the Sanctuary, Susan had to admire their set up. This was the first time she had seen the Dead employed as guard dogs, a protective shield from other foreign threats. Entering the factory on Negan's heels, she saw it was full of people, but Negan's long legs didn't stop so she had to hurry to keep up. He whistled merrily, tunelessly, the sound not unpleasant. Negan took her up to his room, explaining the rules of how she could not sleep with other men and if she wanted anything all she had to do was ask and someone would get it for her. There were other wives, but they would be nice to her.

Then he stepped into a room, and she followed obediently. It was a beautiful bedroom, straight out of a magazine with a modern gray color scheme. Negan smiled at her, too kindly, and gestured to another door – the bathroom. Susan was allowed to shower and get new clothes. The shower was enjoyable. Sure, the water didn't get that hot, but it felt good and she was happy to smell clean again. They even had razors in the shower, and part of Susan wondered just how much she should shave for her new husband. Not wanting to risks nicks anyway – the razor was a cheap one after all – she only shaved her legs and armpits. Negan could deal with the rest. Besides, if she ended up riding his smile like she wanted to, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference from her hair or his own facial hair.

But she was getting ahead of herself again. He hadn't even kissed her yet. The most he had done was yank her hair a bit and she was already panting for him like a bitch in heat. She didn't even know that she liked her hair pulled like that. But she didn't care. It's the end of the world. Everyone should get their rocks off while they can so long as everyone is agreeable to it. Maybe, though, he was the kind of guy who didn't kiss. If he had a harem, he probably treated them all like prostitutes and no one kisses those on the mouth. If that were the case, though, why use the title of wife? Probably to catch more flies with honey, Susan decided.

After her ten-minute long shower (due to water rations) Susan stepped out, looking for the new clothes Negan promised to provide. There wasn't anything. Well, that's not exactly true. There was a black dress and some lingerie, also black. This was to be her new uniform as a wife. Mentally, Susan added practical clothes to her supply list for when she was to leave. Now that she was here though, she didn't have a problem wearing the clothes so much as she had a problem fitting the clothes.

The panties were fine, the dress would be okay too if just a smidge too short but she figured that was what he was going for. Her main problem was the bra. God, a new bra sounded divine if only because her old one had been such a mess. She had removed the underwear from it long ago as both had snapped and started digging into her ribs. Well, this new bra would give her proper support, and while Negan did guess the cup size correctly, that was as much credit as she could give him. Susan couldn't get it to hook no matter how many times she tried. It just wasn't wide enough for her.

She was going to cry from frustration. It wasn't like she could slip the dress on and leave braless, that just wasn't a realistic option. Nervous now, she wondered if he would get the wrong idea if she left the bathroom as she were. It wasn't like she didn't want to immediately jump his bones, but she did wonder if she was ready. Would making herself look easy decrease her value? This was surreal experience. One for the books for sure.

"Susan? Is there a fucking problem?" Negan's voice came from the other side of the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Snatching the towel back up to her chest, she glared at herself in the mirror. "Um, yes? Please don't be mad."

"Why would I be fucking mad?" The door handle jiggled as he grabbed it. "Let me in, and I'll help you."

Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door and it swung open. Susan tucked her chin down, eyes to the floor, and she waited for his response. Her decency was still covered by the towel, but she wanted to know his response.

"Well, damn. I don't see any kind of problem except that you're all the way over there dripping on my bathroom rug instead of dripping around my fat dick." The filth rolled off his tongue smoothly, and if Susan's skin wasn't already red from being scrubbed clean under hot water she would've blushed like a tomato. Negan's ungloved hand came up and he tracked his fingers through her wet hair, taking a handful to tip her head back. It wasn't like he could grab her chin when she had her hands held in front of it, gripping the towel. Like a trance, as soon as he tightened his grip in her hair, Susan found herself wet for other reasons. Once he had her head tilted back to face him, he gave her a seductive smile before nipped her lips and kissed her. Well, that answered her questions about kissing. All of her questions in fact. He was an excellent kisser of course. Could she find no flaws in this man?

Losing herself in the kissing, Susan was hardly aware of anything else until her hands lost their grip on the towel in favor for scrabbling for purchase somewhere else. Her hands greedily found his beard, and she tugged lightly, holding him captive for more kisses that she stole from him. The rough texture against her fingertips was pleasant, and that same texture against the sensitive skin around her mouth was even more so pleasant. His hand in her hair tugged back, mimicking her every time she tugged at his beard. Once she noticed that, she gently tugged at his beard more frequently, a little rougher.

Surprisingly, it was Negan who pulled his head back from that. "What are you doing, Susan?" He didn't sound annoyed, but genuinely curious.

Dazed, Susan lifted an eyebrow at him, wanting to ask him the same thing. Blinking, she became aware of how her towel was being held up because it was pressed between their bodies. Her damp towel had also dampened his white shirt, and she could almost see his nipples through it by now. Lifting her eyes back to his face, she stumbled for an answer. "I don't know. I was just kissing you. Was I that bad?"

His face broke out in a smile, and he was practically giggling as he answered her, "Well, damn, you're so eager to fucking please. That's a nice change in damn pace compared to the fucking others." He licked his lips, and her fingertips (still buried lightly in his beard) twitched as she itched to trace over his kiss-swollen lips. She enjoyed feeling the motions of his jaw as he talked, a hypnotic roll much like how he kissed her. "Yeah, you won't just lay there and make me do all the work. That's fucking great."

Confused, Susan didn't know why, but she felt the need to tell him. "I'm not that flexible, though, so please don't get your hopes too high for me."

"Damn, Susan, it's not about how limber you are. It's about how damn demanding you are." Negan explained to her, and smoothed his fingers down to the end of her hair that clung to her back. For further explanation, he tugged on the ends, and Susan curled her fingers tighter into his beard in correspondence as she hissed. "See what I fucking mean know? You're a little kinky, you know, to like this hair shit." He repeated the motion and this time Susan gasped rather than hissed. "Damn, did you even know that you fucking like this shit before me? I would love to be your fucking first, honey."

"Oh," Susan simply said. Gently, she disentangled herself from his grasp, returning her hands to her towel to grip as she took a step back. The distance cleared her head, though her scalp tingled in remembrance. As much as she would have loved to continue, she wasn't exactly sure. "Um, I just wanted to tell you that the bra you brought me isn't going to fit. I'm sorry."

Negan studied her, and Susan felt like he could see through the towel. From the corner of her eye, she saw how his ungloved hand twitched a little, and she had to wonder if she displeased him. Leaning back on his heels, he tilted his head and smiled, the entire affect completely disarming for Susan as she sighed helplessly. "No fucking problem then. Just tell me what you want and I'll find it then." He rubbed the ungloved hand through his beard, a phantom movement of what she felt on her own scalp from his tugs. "You won't need a bra for the rest of the day, though, if you're agreeable to me fucking your brains out and yanking your pretty hair."

Susan's eyes briefly widened, thighs pressing closer together, and she was really considering it. Why delay the inevitable? Why not just go ahead and see how good he really was? Why not enjoy her two weeks here? Besides, this week sex would be fine, but next week would be her period; no sex then. This could work out perfect. Have a fun fuck week and then a week where she had the excuse of her period to keep her distance from him and start collecting supplies to leave. As soon as her period was over, she'd take her things and sneak out, no problem. She was sure she'd find a way to escape over the gate and through the Dead.

Her mind made up, Susan nodded and stepped forward, dropping the towel. Though she was committed now, she immediately felt her defensiveness rise as her towel dropped. She was still self-conscious. Gladdened by her positive response, Negan met her half way as he stepped forward to her, but there was a pause as he noticed the way she tensed up. He leaned back again, creating distance, and Susan anxiously contributed the behavior to be because he disliked her appearance. Immediately, she ducked her head down again in shame, already mentally self-lambasting herself for ruining a perfect opportunity.

"Now, Susan," Negan's voice cut through her train of thought, and his ungloved hand came up to her hair again as he tugged her head back. "You're not required to sleep with me, even as a wife. I never force a woman to do something she doesn't want. No rape is allowed here at the Sanctuary. It's a crime punishable by death – even to me. If you don't want to fuck, then we won't. I'll give you time to adjust." Negan bit his lip and then immediately licked the same spot to soothe it. "I would really, really like to fuck your brains out, though. You are fucking beautiful after all. But, whenever you're ready." He released his grip in her hair, and Susan's hands came up to catch it before he could withdraw it to his body completely.

"No," Susan was blushing now. She couldn't believe that he liked her. This was working out so well. It was too perfect. "No, I want to fuck you. I just wasn't sure if you'd like me. Or if you thought this um, hair thing, was, uh, too much? You can tell me to stop and I will." Pulling his hand to her, she pressed a kiss to his palm. "But I do, uh, really like when you pull my hair." With bravery she didn't know she had, she nipped at his fingertips. "Can I, uh, pull your hair, too? If you don't mind." She dipped his index finger in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit and tasting his skin. Susan would prefer if this were another body part of his, but she didn't want to be too forward yet. After all, she had a week to explore.

"Shit, you're too much, but damn if I don't love it," Negan groaned. He twisted his hand out of her grip until he caught her hair and pulled her too him again, careful to find that perfect balance between roughness and gentleness. "You can yank the shit outta my hair, I don't care, I've just got to have you now." He caught her mouth in a kiss before she could reply, and in the same movement scooped her up in his arms as he carried over to the bed – his bed.

Surprised that he could carry her when he himself was so slim, Susan moaned into the kiss, thoroughly enjoying herself and fully throwing herself into the experience. Negan pushed her back on the bed. His hands quickly and eagerly yanked her panties off. Now she was completely bare whereas he still wore his white shirt and pants. He had taken off his boots though, toeing them off, so that was one less thing to worry about.

Her hands came up to him and tugged at his shirt, demanding without words (due to her occupied mouth) that he take it off. His chuckle broke their kiss as he eased back. "Wait a minute, now, Susan." He caught her eye, and smiled beautifully. "I like your eagerness, honey, but I'm a little fucking eager, too." He gestured for her to move backwards, and she did as he asked until she was propped against his pillows and the headboard. "I said that I've got to have you, but first, I'd like to fucking taste you."

Those words were barely processed in Susan's mind when Negan had already slipped her thick thighs were over his shoulders, legs draped down his back with her ankles neatly hooked just above his rear. With surprising affection, Negan nuzzled his cheeks into the flesh of her thighs, wiggling into a more comfortable position; the beard tickled and excited her. The movement was reminiscent to one of how a man might bury his face between breasts, but here he was burrowing between her thighs, hands pulling her lower lips apart. She was already glistening with arousal, and while she had been mentally praising herself for shaving her legs, now she was regretting not shaving for him completely.

Luckily, Negan didn't seem to mind. He didn't even comment on it. Instead he took a breath, appreciating the clean and womanly smell, and then dived in to taste. Susan's back bowed forward, heels digging into his rear, toes curling; and she grabbed the slick hair on his head. The product in his hair made it hard for her to grasp him firmly, but she was managing as she yanked on his hair like she liked. Negan didn't tell her she was being too rough.

In fact, he seemed to encourage her as he renewed his assault on her pussy. He was using just his mouth, kissing her clit and flicking it with his tongue before licking back down her slit to drink from the source. If he was a good kisser, he was twice as good at kissing pussy. Negan tongue-fucked her, nibbled teasingly light on her clit, licked her in long smooth strokes that had her thighs trembling with weakness. When he stuck his tongue in her as far as possible, his nose bumped against her clit just right; when he tongued that one crazy spot she had inside of her, his beard was pressed flushed against her and stimulated everything just how she loved it. At one point, he pulled back and licked her from slit to clit, dragging his bearded chin after his tongue until he scrubbed his beard against her clit in full force. She loved that so much that she yanked him hard to repeat the movement, and he did as much until she yanked him back again, finding it to be too much after five or so more strokes.

No matter how hard she yanked on his hair, it only drove him crazier in licking all her juices up. The only time he seemed to resist her movements was when he thighs clamped too tight around his head and his hands gripped them hard, forcing her open wider. Susan barely noticed, chalking it up to how he didn't want her to strangle him, and instead made a conscious effort to just yank harder on his hair as compensation.

The noises coming from between her thighs and from his mouth were deliciously obscene and wet. Suction noises and moist pops were easily drowned out by Susan's own mouth, though, as she moaned. Negan's groan every time she rhythmically tugged on his hair to direct his attention where she wanted was the only noise that could rival her moans. His name was a litany from her lips, the only intelligible word she could manage.

She wanted to tell him that she was close, to warn him, but she had a feeling that the bastard knew as he licked her faster, pressing his tongue into her flesh harder and with more urgency. With one quick nip on her clit – with teeth this time, though thankfully not too hard – Susan came with a keen of, "Negan!" Her climax thoroughly soaked his chin, and her hands, which had gripped his black hair so hard, finally relaxed as she flopped back fully on the pillows. God, it had been too long since her last orgasm. Thank God for Negan.

Catching her breath, she looked down to see what Negan was doing and found him nearly at eye level, stretched over her body panther-like with his arms on either side of body and his legs wedged between her own legs. He was grinning at her, beard shimmering with her juices, teeth flashing cheerily, and eyes sparkling with lust and good humor. "How the fuck was that? A-fucking-mazing, I know I am." He rhetorically asked and answered his own question.

His smile morphed into a shit-eating grin, and to shut him up, Susan caught his beard in her hands and yanked him to her mouth for a kiss, unbothered by tasting herself. Admittedly, Susan was amazed that Negan could make her cum just from his mouth alone – no finger stimulation necessary. Additionally, she was shocked that the first place on her body he wanted to kiss was her pussy. Normally there was the customary breast-access and such, probably hickies on her neck, but he skipped all that to go straight for the gold. She had to admire his style. Maybe tugging on his hair just geared him up so much that he couldn't help himself. Oh, yes, Susan liked that idea a lot.

One of Negan's hands had just come up to grasp her hair when there came knocks from the door. Broken out of the kiss by the 'shave and haircut' knock, Susan gasped for air and glanced at the door curiously. Negan, on the other hand, had much less kinder action as he growled dangerously, rolling his head around until his neck popped. "What the fuck is it?!" He shouted at the door, and Susan jumped at his volume. He shot her an apologetic look before glaring at the door again.

"Negan, we have a problem," Simon's voice came from the other side of the door. "We tried radioing you, but you turned it off. And we wouldn't interrupt you unless it were important."

"Yeah, be there in a fucking minute." Negan answered him. He directed his gaze back at Susan, and he gave her a crooked sort of smile. The smile was slightly smushed by her hands as she hadn't let go of his beard yet, her palms petting over it, not caring about the gather moisture she was collecting. "To be con-fucking-tinued, Susan." He kissed one of her palms and then licked the other clean of her juices before pulling away.

Numbly, Susan watched, still breathing heavily, hands hovering in the air helplessly. Negan smoothed down his shirt, pulled on his jacket and zipped it up. He went to the bathroom and used her towel to clean his face. Then he returned to the bedroom, sitting on the bed to tuck his scarf in place and pull on his boots.

Susan slowly moved, crawling up beside him, feeling affectionate rather than bereft. She could forgive the interruption, though she was sad that he had to leave unsatisfied. Perhaps, this was a good thing. She was making steps but it was probably best that they hadn't gone all the way yet. Rushing things would be no fun when she had a week to explore everything she wanted.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, she watched his face as he ignored her in favor for tugging his boots into place. Feeling her look, he looked up at her, catching her staring, and smiled at her softly. "Well, do I look as thoroughly fucked as I feel? At least then I can get back on those fuckers for interrupting me by making them fucking jealous," He finished with his smile lapsing back into a smirk.

"Well, you didn't exactly get fucked, though," Susan apologized, "And I'm sorry about that. I'll make it up to you, though. I promise."

Chuckling, Negan shook his head. "You apologize way too damn fucking much, Susan. And don't fucking apologize for that either." This time it was just his eyes that were smiling at her as he continued, "Just stay here and wait for me to get back. Then we can pick up right where we fucking left off." He kissed her quickly, pulling away before she could try and convince him to stay. Climbing to his feet, he picked up Lucille from her designated spot on the couch and made his way to the door.

"Wait, Negan," Susan called from his bed.

He swung on his heel to face her, leaning to one side, head tilted in question.

"Um, your hair. You may want to, uh, restyle it? If you have the time, of course."

Negan's smile was so ruggedly handsome that Susan's heart stopped. God, it seems that she would never get used to his smile at this rate. It would probably still be a novelty by the time she left, too. "I don't have the time, but I don't fucking care, Susan. Let them see the sex-head." Without even bothering to smooth his hair back into place, Negan was still smiling at her when he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as he was gone, Susan sighed. God, this was going to be such a good and well deserved vacation for her.


	3. Step Into My Parlor

Susan had deemed it prudent to take a nap while Negan was gone, that way she would be well rested enough for round two by the time Negan were to come back. What she hadn't expected was to sleep through the night until the next morning in Negan's bed, not even waking when he came back and then left again in the morning. He had thoroughly worn her out last night with that too-good orgasm. When she woke up alone, she was mildly embarrassed, but also chalked it up to catching up on the too few hours of sleep she had out in the world. On Negan's bedside table, he left her a new bra, her panties, and the little black dress – and a plate of pancakes and eggs, which she devoured. Susan smiled at his thoughtfulness, happy that he kept his word and remembered to bring her a new bra. Hopefully, this one would fit her right.

And fit her, it did. Susan was pleased and felt very sexy, something she hadn't felt in a long time. Making up Negan's bed, Susan found that she had missed this mundane chore from her old life. Wandering to the bathroom, she looked for a hairbrush but only found the comb that Negan used for his own hair. It was greasy with product, and Susan remembered how his hair felt in her grip and curled her toes at the thought. A knock at the bedroom door started her out of her thoughts, and she hurried to answer it, knowing it probably wasn't Negan anyway since why would he bother knocking on his own door.

She was right, it wasn't Negan. It was a brunette in a black dress: another wife, she supposed. "Hello Susan, I'm Sherry." The two women stared at each other, comparing each other obviously, and Susan felt woefully inadequate. Sherry was taller, thinner, skin fairer. Susan felt like a mess. After a moment, Sherry continued, "Negan asked me to introduce you to the others." There a pause, and nothing but silence. Sherry sighed.

Briefly, Sherry stepped into the room, invading Susan's personal space. Susan had to strain her ears to listen to Sherry's lowered voice as she whispered, "Look, for your sake, I'm hoping you did this for protection, not out of selfish desires, because now that you're a wife you can never leave. Ever. Don't even try. He will find you, and it will not be pretty." Sherry stepped out of the room, walking away. "Please follow me to the parlor," Sherry called back over her shoulder.

Head-spinning, Susan had little choice but to follow, padding on bare feet after her. Sherry's steps were more confident with the click-clack of high-heeled stilettos, and Susan found that she didn't like Sherry. There was just something about her that decidedly irked Susan. Even the way she said parlor – who even used the word parlor – deeply bothered Susan. It was like that old nursery rhyme.

 _"'_ _Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly."_

Why would Sherry tell her those things? Why was she so unhappy? Was it because she was jealous that there was another wife taking up Negan's time? What was her deal? Why did she had such a chip on her shoulder? Did she suspect that she was planning to leave? Was it that obvious?

Once they reached the parlor, Susan felt like she was dipped in ice as soon as she stepped in. There were four other women and all of them were definitely more beautiful than she was. Susan was starting to suspect that it was her ballsy nature that earned her the position as wife. There were three other white women, besides Sherry, and one black woman who remained aloof, flipping through her book and generally not paying Susan any mind. Susan appreciated that. After all, she wasn't here to make friends. The three other women, though, openly stared at her.

Sherry announced her, "This is Susan." Sherry gestured to the other wives as she introduced them. "Susan this is Amber," she pointed to the blonde and youngest-looking woman "Frankie," she pointed at the bottle red-head, "Tanya," she pointed at the last white woman, "and Michaela," she pointed at the black woman.

Frankie, Tanya, and Amber were all sitting on one fancy couch together, drinking wine and dining on fresh fruit. "Why don't you go and join them, Susan?" Sherry suggested, a bored look on her face.

"Well, where are you going Sherry?"

Sherry's look was frosty, mean. "I'm going to go get a smoke." With that, she left, and Susan was glad that she was gone.

A little shy, Susan walked over to the three women, unsure of herself. At her approach, Amber looked up and looked smug. She finished off the rest of her wine, and left soon after Sherry, waving goodbye to the two other women. Wondering if it was something she did, Susan looked over at the two remaining women for answers. "Don't mind, Amber, she'd just going to get a snack," Tanya assured Susan. For a moment, Susan was reassured, but then Tanya and Frankie looked at each other and snickered, and Susan was back to square one.

"Well, aren't you going to sit down?" Frankie asked her. She patted the space that Amber had just vacated. "Sip some wine and talk to us. We're bored."

Susan now remembered one of the benefits of being alone; that is, she wouldn't have to deal with catty group dynamics like this. Still, she did as Frankie suggested, and reminded herself not to make lasting friendships, though that didn't seem like it would be a problem.

"So, tell us about yourself. There's hardly anything new to talk about."

Susan glanced between the two women and decided that drinking was going to be a must when she was with them. "Well, there's nothing to tell. I lived a normal life like everyone else before the Dead rose. I was an advocate for protecting the environment. Since the end, I've kinda been on my own, surviving. Now I'm here and this is nice." Susan shrugged.

Neither woman seemed to care that Susan's life story was so lacking. They both just took dainty sips of their wine and followed it up with popping grapes and strawberries in their mouths. "I was a licensed massage therapist," Frankie continued proudly, tossing her hair. Susan couldn't help but notice that the color obviously wasn't natural, and she wondered if it was a special request to find her particular hair-dye.

"Hey, I bet Negan likes that," Susan commented and used Amber's abandoned glass to pour herself some wine. "Your license isn't going to expire anytime soon since you're putting it to good use."

Frankie laughed, though her eyes betrayed how she really felt, which was a little shocked. "Yeah, you're right. Negan loves it. You know, it kinda makes me wonder, though, why he would want you." From where she sat, Susan stilled, and then grabbed a bundle of grapes for herself to eat and to busy her hands. "You wanna know why I became a wife? Well, it was originally just me and Tanya. We were the first two. We couldn't stand each other and we were constantly fighting for Negan's attention until he finally decided to have us both. He gave us the terms and conditions, and we said why not share him so long as there were two of us."

"But then," Frankie interrupted, "He brought Michaela home to the parlor. We had known Michaela, she was one of us here in the Sanctuary. In exchange for being a wife, she gets treated like a queen and no longer has to work for points. Once he brought her home, he broadcasted job openings to all the other women here. Amber joined us so that she would be able to take care of her mother comfortably."

"When her mother died, though," Tanya picked the story back up, "Amber didn't stop being a wife. She loves to live in the lap of luxury. She likes being spoiled like a princess. She hated living on the point system. Even with Mark – "

"She doesn't have to know about Mark," Frankie butted in again, shooting Tanya a dirty look.

Susan blinked rapidly, trying to process everything. "Okay, what about Sherry?"

"Sherry?" Tanya giggled, and Susan wondered if both girls had imbibed enough wine to get tipsy. "Well, she's different. She's here because she loves Dwight, not because she loves Negan."

"Yeah, she doesn't love Negan like we do," Frankie spat and then shot her dirty look at Susan pointedly.

"I'm sorry," Susan found herself apologizing under Frankie's unfriendly glare. "I don't understand, though." Faintly, Susan remembered hearing about Dwight getting his dick bit. She wondered if this had anything to do with Sherry's earlier behavior, too.

"Dwight and Sherry ran away. Negan got upset with them for stealing. They came back and begged for forgiveness, but Negan was gonna kill them." Tanya freely shared the gossip, explaining everything away. "You know, he has to make an example of thieves. To save their lives, Sherry offered her hand in marriage, and Negan saw that she was pretty enough and said yes."

"But not until he has burned Dwight's face, permanently marking him in shame and dishonor." Frankie said the words as if there were performed in a speech, and Susan didn't doubt it.

Sitting back in her chair, Susan took a larger gulp of her wine, trying to process everything. She knew this community had to be a little screwy since it was under Negan's management – and Negan had multiple wives and didn't seem like a Mormon. But this took it to a whole new level. Just another reason for her to leave, though, now she had to be doubly sure to never be caught. But love Negan as a wife? He is a great fuck, but she doubted she ever would fall for him. Still, she could pretend well enough and that should suffice.

"Ladies," Negan greeted them as he stepped over the threshold and into the parlor. Susan sat up straighter for him, feeling like shit next to the other girls. Michaela seemingly ignored Negan, but Frankie and Tanya immediately simpered their hellos at him.

Walking over to where the three women sat, Negan smiled at them all, though his eyes lingered last on Susan. "Frankie, Tanya, how are my #1 and #2 girls?"

"Much better now that you're here, Negan," Tanya batted her eyelashes at him, and Frankie twirled her red hair around her finger. "Are you in the mood for a massage, baby? Or just some company?"

"You know, I am in the mood for some quality time, but that will be with #6 here if she's agreeable to it." Negan winked at her. "But where is #4 and #5?"

"Sherry stepped out to smoke," Susan answered him, and she saw his eyes darken. Frankie and Tanya shook their heads, burrowing their noses in their wine glasses to hide their giggles. "Oh, did I just get her in trouble?"

"No, not exactly, Susan." Negan's voice was soft. It was a nice change in pace to have a wife that didn't try and deliberately sabotaged the others. "I don't approve of smoking. Makes you taste like shit and I don't like it. Besides, if she goes and develops lung cancer, we don't have the medicine to treat her, now fucking do we? But she can fucking smoke if she wants to, I just won't fuck her." Susan formed the connection in her mind then on just why Sherry smoked. "What about Amber, Susan? Did you see where she went?"

"Um," Susan's eyes sidled towards her compatriots, but they avoided looking at her. She knew that dropping Mark's name meant nothing good, so she went with what they told her. "She went to go get food?"

Negan hummed, seeming to approve. "Well, would you like to get out of here then and go fuck the shit out of each other?"

This time Susan didn't bother to hide the fact that she glanced at the other wives. Similarly, they ignored her, and she took note that Frankie's fist was squeezing the wine glass so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Okay, Negan, let me ride you then." She looked up at Negan just in time to catch his proud grin before he took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. He practically dragged her out of the parlor after that in his eagerness, and Susan didn't bother waving goodbye to the other women. They weren't her friends, so why should she care?

On their way back to Negan's bedroom, they didn't meet anyone, and Susan tried to pay attention to the route so she wouldn't get lost. If she was going to leave, she needed to know her way around. Negan looked over his shoulder at her and Susan guiltily started. He only smiled at her, though, and she immediately calmed, though her heart did beat faster for much different and altogether more pleasant reasons. "Remind me to get you a pair of heels," was the only thing he said. Then he dragged her inside his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Alone at last and again, Susan wasted no time in slipping her panties off and kicking them across the room. They landed somewhere on the couch, but she didn't care. She immediately moved in to get another kiss from Negan, though she had to restrain herself from digging her fingers into either his beard or hair again or she would never stop tugging and yanking so needy-like. Instead, her demanding fingers unzipped his jacket, and she shucked it off his arms in one fluid movement. Negan was laughing into the kiss, the chuckles more like sharp breaths from his nose as he continued to kiss her, allowing her to undress him.

She did continue to undress him since she didn't get to see him bare last night. Her hands yanked his shirt free from his pants and she skipped his shirt in favor for his belt immediately. Unbuckling him blindly made her fumble a bit, but soon she heard the satisfying hiss of his belt sliding out of the pants' beltloops. She popped the button free, and unzipped his pants, part of her tempted to go ahead and reach in and feel what she would be working with. But part of her wanted to be surprised, so instead she pushed his pants down as far as she could without breaking the kiss. Negan obediently kicked his pants the rest of the way off.

Pleased that he was letting her do this, Susan continued to push her luck. She gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, impatiently. For once, she broke their shared kiss, ordering him, "Lift up." Negan snorted, but did as she said, and Susan pulled his shirt up, exposing his flesh from stomach to chest. Halfway through taking off his shirt though, she got distracted by his alluring happy trail. More importantly though, she had to stop halfway through because she lacked the height to complete the movement and get the shirt up over his head. "A little help please," she bashfully asked this time, and Negan shot her a knowing look before he grabbed the collar of his shirt at the base of this neck and pulled the shirt off over his head.

"Remember how I told you to remind me about the heels? Well, make sure I also get you really fucking tall heels," Negan joked, standing shirtless before her. Susan ignored his teasing in favor for examining him. She was right to think that he was slim, and though he didn't ripple with muscles, she liked how deceivingly strong he was. He could lift her effortlessly after all. For another, though, seeing him so slim she realized that he was a wiry kind of muscle, lacking clear cut definition. That didn't bother her, though. In fact, what she liked best was the generous sprinkling of chest hair over his pecs, swirling temptingly around his nipples she'd love to kiss, before forming a strip of hair that pointed straight to the prize that was his blooming erection hidden in his boxers. She hummed appreciatively, but she did have one concern. Back in the parlor, she had been showing off the other wives as she promised to ride him, but now she was scared. Negan was such a slim guy, and she was more than a little worried of crushing him.

"As much as I love being admired for the fucking magnificent fucker I am, I think you're a little fucking overdressed for this occasion." Negan stepped forward, and – in a movement that was quickly becoming customary between the two of them – tugged her hair to tilt her head back for eye contact.

Catching his eye, Susan bit her lip, still mulling over if he was going to make her keep her promise for a ride. So far, he had kept his promises to her, so it would be unfair for her to do otherwise. "Well, unzip me then." She turned her back to him to show him the zipper, and she moaned and melted when he took her hair and swept it out of the way so he could reach the zipper. Negan had such a way about him, the way he twisted his wrist so that her hair was wrapped around his hand, and the tug so sensuous for being just enough pressure – well, Susan was glad that she had went ahead and tossed her panties away since surely, they would be soaked by now.

When he had unzipped her enough, the black dress loosened from its form-fitting mold around her body and slipped off like shedding a second skin. Unrestricted, Susan lifted her arms back to unhook her new bra, but Negan gently pushed her hands away. "I take it this fucking bra gets the job done then?" He snapped one of the straps before he fluidly unhooked it.

Pulling the bra off and tossing it in the same general direction as her panties, Susan answered him, "Yes, thank you for getting me another one, Negan." She carefully stepped out of her dress, turning back around to face him. Since this was the second time he had seen her naked, she was a little more confident now.

"Well, you're fucking welcome, Susan." Negan used his grip on Susan's hair to pull her closer to him, and he embraced her, going again for another kiss. Susan briefly wondered how she could stand here and kiss a man who was going to kill Sherry and her husband – who burned Sherry's husband's face. But then she remembered everything she has done, and was bitterly reminded that she was no saint. Pushing that unpleasantness aside, Susan instead decided to focus on how sweet Negan could be with her, so caring and generous. Sure, he wasn't a Prince Charming, but this was as good as it gets at the end of the world. And it was good enough for Susan since she knew there would be no love.

Breaking their kiss again – one of Susan's new least favorite of Negan's new fasted growing habits with her – Negan trailed his lips down her neck, finally going to leave hickies. Again, he used the grip he had on her hair to pull her head to one side, providing easy access to her neck where he could reach this one sensitive spot just behind and below her ear. Moaning wantonly in his ear, Susan's hands finally came up and gripped his hair, stroking through it and petting him softly rather than yanking. Her passion levels weren't quite at the yanking stage yet. "Mm, now who's wearing too many clothes?" She reminded him about his boxers.

Straightening up, lips leaving her neck from where he had laved deliciously wet kisses, Negan pulled away just far enough to look in Susan's eyes. Mischievously, he tugged a little on her hair, and Susan moaned immediately, pupils dilating wide. "You're fucking right, Susan, though, I seem to fucking remember that you made me a fucking promise. You promised you would fucking ride me, huh? So, we gonna fuck each other's brain out or what?"

Nervously, Susan gulped, searching Negan's eyes to see how serious he was. "Okay, Negan, go sit down and take your boxers off then." For courage, she stole a quick kiss before bossily pushing against his chest in the direction of the couch. Looks like they would break the bed in another day it seemed.

Susan was more than a little envious of Negan as she watched his stumble back to the couch to take a seat. Despite his lankiness and long limbs, he still managed to make falling back into the couch look elegant and sexy. Eagerly, she watched as Negan hooked his fingers around his boxers and shoved them down his legs without preamble, kicking them aside without a care.

As soon as his member was freed, Susan's eyes were glued to it. Zeroing in on his erection, she stepped closer for a better examination. Though Negan himself was slim, his erection was decidedly thick, thicker than she expected from someone like him. It was long, in proportion to the rest of him, and if she could give an approximate measure, she'd say that he was about ten or so inches. Without thinking, she grabbed the erection, taking note of how she was only able to enclose her fingers around it because she had as her mother dubbed 'piano fingers.' Experimentally, she gave him a few tugs, enjoying how his skin was like velvet and extremely hot. His erection was hard yes, but pliant to her movement as she bent and twisted her wrist, smoothing his beaded precum over the rest of him to make the ride easier. There was one particular vein that throbbed on the underside of his erection from base to head. If she were to taste him, she'd never stop licking that vein – but she would save fellatio for another day.

"Damn it, Susan," Negan impatiently groaned, watching her play with and pleasure him equally, "are you gonna fucking ride me to hell or not?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Susan blinked up at him before she remembered herself. "Sorry, it's just been a while since I've seen such a pretty cock," she honestly admitted to him. She gave him a rueful sort of smile, still apologetic, though her hand didn't stop tugging on his member. Susan yanked cock as well as she yanked hair it seemed.

Now Negan had heard his dick be referred to in many ways. It was hard, it was big, it was too big, it was salty – pretty standard stuff. But pretty? That was new. Was he necessarily opposed to the compliment? No, but in his mind, he didn't think that cocks could ever be called pretty. But he just found another reason he liked Susan. He took ahold of her by the waist, urging her to clamber onto his lap. "Come on and ride my huge fucking pretty dick, then, Susan. I know you want to. Shit, don't I fucking want you to."

Thrown a little off-balance by Negan's urging, Susan clumsily straggled his lap, nearly knocking her head against his. Well, not exactly nearly – she did bump her chin against his forehead and he hissed. It didn't hurt her as much, but in apology she kissed the spot. Carefully, she balanced herself on him, one hand gripping the back of the couch while the other hand held his cock steady as she rubbed herself up and down him, liberally spreading her juices over him so he would slide in so much easier. Panting, Susan momentarily forgot just why she was rubbing him as she instead deliberately humped her engorged clit against the head of his dick, seeking her pleasure.

Beneath her, Negan groaned and writhed, thrusting his hips up into her hand and beating his dick against the sensitive outside of her pussy. "Come the fuck on, Susan, lemme get inside of your pussy." One of his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her down and closer, and one hand buried itself in her hair at the back of her skull, fisting the brown tendrils and pulling until her head was tilted all the way back, preventing any more possible concussions between the two of them.

Finally, Susan quit her teasing and sunk down onto him impossibly slow so that she would have time to adjust. Immediately, her hand shifted to his hair, and she twisted it in her fingers, giving as good as she got. For every time he yanked her hair, she would yank back and fuck him harder as she bounced on his lap. His grip on her hair made her a slave to his touch. So long as he kept pulling, she would do whatever he wanted, and with every tug she bounced on him, and moaned louder.

Of course, Negan loved this as much as Susan did, and quickly set a fast-paced rhythm for her to follow. Yanking her head back, she was entirely exposed from throat to chest, and Negan took his freehand and formed it to one of her breasts. "Finally, I get to fucking touch and suck these glorious fucking tits." He swiped his thumb over her nipple and slammed up into her at the same time, loving the combination of hot pussy on his dick, soft tit in his hand, and silky hair wrapped around his fingers. "I can't wait until I get to ping-pong my dick over your titties, Susan." He yanked one breast to his mouth and laved the nipple, sucking hard as he maintained the staccato rhythm of his hips and yanking her hair with his other hand.

Meanwhile, Susan moaned, tears developing in her eyes as the tugging at both her breast and hair brought delicious pain. Her neglected breast ached for his attention, needy and wanton, but her pussy was being filled and stroking that one spot so right that it was a paradox of feelings. It felt so fucking good to be fucked, but there was a sting developing inside where Negan was bottoming out against her cervix. She loved it all, though. Every time she slid down his cock, her clit slammed into his pubic bone, his pubic hair an added rough texture that was like striking a match to get it to burn. There was this fire building, and she was almost there, but not just yet. Almost, almost.

After torturing one breast long enough, Negan switched to the other managing to keep his grip through his teeth as he cruelly tugged on it, Susan not helping due to the force of her bouncing. He snaked his hand back down to her rear and gripped her hip, fingers pressing hard into her ass cheek to leave bruises as he made her move even faster and harder. He steadily pulled on her hair, not relaxing, and it felt like she was tearing his own hair out by the root – but he enjoyed it nevertheless because he knew he was doing this right and encouraged to do more.

Continuing to kiss her bouncing breasts, Negan knew that she was going to develop a burn from his beard, hickies on her neck from his kisses, bruises form his hand, and she'd probably not be able to walk properly. God, did she bathe his dick in pussy juices as she was so wet that she gushed, creating a suction. At the back of his mind he wondered where he should put his cum, insider or outside of her? Maybe she would like to swallow him up or wear him proudly on her face? The thought of a facial alone made him even more excited and he planted his feet hard on the floor and pushed up to meet her stroke for stroke. He knew that if he slipped his hand forward and pressed his thumb against her clit while simultaneously yanking hard, she would cum for him beautifully. Lifting his hand to do just that, he impetuously smacked her ass while he yanked her hair again – and Susan immediately coiled around him so tight and orgasmed that Negan nearly did, too, hips stuttering.

Susan's orgasm surprised her as well, her moan more like a shout of his name. The force of her climax pushed his dick out as she was in mid-stroke upward, and though Negan was left bereft of pussy, he came also by surprise, spraying his seed over her stomach in three or four quick bursts.

Climbing down from her high, Susan sat back on his knees, shaking and quivering from aftershocks. Negan collapses backwards against the couch, releasing his grip on her hair. He threw his head back, sighing, groaning appreciatively. Well, that had never quite happened before – climaxing from being spanked just once. Susan's hands fell from his body, grabbing at the couch to keep herself study. She didn't seem quite as surprised as him, just overall satisfied. "Fucking wow, Susan, you are kinky as shit," Negan informed her when he could speak.

Eyes glassy and sated from her orgasm, Susan collected his cum on her stomach before it could dribble down on him or his couch. "I guess," she sucked the cum off of her fingers. "You like that, though, don't you, Negan?"

He laughed and gave her a sleepy sort of smile, cock already stirring at the sight of her licking up his cum. "Of fucking course, Susan. What kinda fucking dumbass question is that? You are hot as shit, kinky as fuck, and you've got huge fucking lady nuts like goddamned volleyballs. What's not to fucking like about you?"

Though she knew it was a rhetorically question, Susan thought of all the stuff she hated about herself, and then shrugged. "Plenty, but I'm glad I please you, Negan."

Negan chuffed at her, "Nonsense! Fuck me if you're not fucking perfect, Susan. Tsk, tsk."

"Well give me two minutes and I will fuck you, Negan." Susan teased with a half-smile, one of the first she's given him. Now the tables were turned as Negan admired her smile for once, and as a first, Negan had no smart come back. He could do nothing but smile back at her with all of his teeth and sincerely with his eyes.


	4. Shopping with Dwighty Boy

The two minutes were scarcely up when there was a knock at the door. The peculiar sense of Deja-Vu fell over Susan as she scrambled to her feet, snatching up her bra and panties from the couch where she tossed them. Without preamble, she frantically pulled them on and Negan, partially shocked, watched her wiggle about. Yes, Susan was very different from the other wives. Wives #1 through #4 – with the exception of Sherry who he hasn't been able to sleep with yet – always whined and complained when their time together was interrupted. Susan, it seemed, didn't want to be a bother and she also didn't seem to mind sharing him either. He could get use to this behavior as she was rapidly becoming his new favorite after Amber.

"Who the fuck is interrupting me now?" Negan barked at the door, lazily pulling on his boxers.

"Sorry, sir," called a male voice unfamiliar to Susan, "it's about the prisoner."

Pulling her dress back on, Susan casted a confused look in Negan's direction. The Sanctuary had prisoners? This was news to her.

Not noticing her look, Negan shoved his legs into his pants, cocking his head at the new information. "Fat Joey is that you? You talking about Daryl?" He found his shirt and slipped that back on, too.

"Yes, sir, it's me," came the same voice again, though now identified as Fat Joey. Susan frowned disapprovingly at the moniker. "May I come in?" Fat Joey politely asked.

Glancing over at Susan to see if she was decent, Negan raised his eyebrows in question. Susan bit her lip and turned around exposing her back and the zipper she couldn't reach. Negan stepped up to her, grasping her hair and wrapping it around his wrist as he pulled it out of the way, and then he slowly zipped her dress up, placing a whiskery kiss on the nape of her neck before dropping her hair and moving away again. "Yeah, go ahead," Negan granted permission and started looking around for his jacket.

Fat Joey stepped into the bedroom, and Susan glanced at him curiously. He was nondescript, though his nickname was apt. Other than that, she saw no problem with him; he didn't strike her as mean or dangerous in anyway. "Oh, hello," Fat Joey greeted her when he saw her before shooting a simultaneously panicked and apologetic look at Negan. "Sorry, sir, I didn't know you were entertaining."

Nonchalantly, Negan waved his arms and sat back down to pull on his boots again. "It's fine, we were finished fucking. Fucked each other up pretty good, so I hope you don't spoil my fine mood now with any bullshit." He shot a look between Susan and Fat Joey. "So, what were you saying about Daryl?"

"Uh," Fat Joey nervously glanced at Susan who had wandered over to the bathroom to fix her hair and clean up a bit. Negan talking about their sex life doesn't particularly bother her. He struck her as the type to brag about it, so she had been expecting this kind of behavior. Besides, she knew it would be dumb to hide it since she was his wife and it was only to be expected of her. A large part of her was proud that he would brag about sleeping with her, as if she were quite the catch when it seemed more of the other way around. In her opinion, she was the lucky one to have caught Negan's eye however the hell she did – especially when she noticed that the five other wives were definitely way more beautiful.

"Well," Fat Joey began, "you remember how you said you wanted to be told the moment Daryl escapes like you planned? It's happened. He just left his cell when I came up here to get you."

"Well damn, Fat Joey," Negan exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, "you couldn't bother to fucking sprint up here? I don't see you breathing hard. You better hope he gets a little fucking lost before he gets to the bikes out in the back." Imperiously, he snapped his fingers at Fat Joey, "Tell D to get up here so he's outta the way and go head Daryl off. Chop fuckity chop." Fat Joey nodded frantically before he left, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Susan came back, her hair much smoother, and she handed Negan his black leather jacket with a rueful look. Negan took it from her with a smile, and as he slipped it on he bent over and gave her a chaste kiss. Standing up straight once more, he slicked his hair back, and Susan nodded her approval. He smiled even wider before snatching up Lucille and heading for the door after Fat Joey. Over his shoulder he called, "Just wait for D and do as he says. Take the day off the recover, Susan!"

Left alone, Susan shook her head, and then immediately regretted the action as her neck twinged in pain. Leaning that far back and having her hair yanked like that meant she was undoubtedly going to be sore from her hair follicles to her pussy, which was just starting to ache from being fucked like that. It had been since before the end of the world since she's last had sex and she was feeling it now. Rubbing the back of her neck, she groaned. It was a damn shame that she would have to be leaving soon. She could get used to living in the lap of luxury such as this, especially if that lap was Negan's.

Left to her own devices, Susan glanced around the room and was instantly struck by the thought that her backpack had disappeared. Heading to the shower, she mulled that over. That was more than a little upsetting, especially since it was the damn backpack that got her in this position to begin with.

She should also start preparing for her imminent escape, too, by collecting food and water among other things. Briefly, her thoughts wandered to Negan's and Fat Joey's conversation she had overheard while she was in the bathroom. They had planned for a prisoner to escape? Thinking back even further, Susan also remembered how Frankie and Tanya told her how Sherry and her husband were hunted down for escaping and stealing supplies. She was nervously starting to consider more and more than maybe she wouldn't be able to escape. After all, the previous communities, groups, and settlements she had abandoned didn't expect her to leave. Apparently, the Sanctuary had plans in place to prevent people from leaving.

Only slightly disturbed by the thought, Susan still decided that it was best to plan for escape anyway. If she saw that it would be too difficult, she'd find another way and maybe it would take a little longer than a fortnight to escape.

At the rate of how her stay at the Sanctuary was going so far, though, she wouldn't be opposed to hanging around Negan more. That didn't mean she was going to get attached to him more than she already was. No matter how long she was going to stay, she wasn't going to allow herself to get close to anyone. That meant no romantic relationship barring sex with Negan, and no friendships. Being nice was fine (because enemies are worse), but that was as far as her social interactions were going to go with the people here.

Staring down at her bare feet once she stepped out of the shower, clean again, Susan absently wondered if she could request comfortable shoes rather than the high heels Negan wanted her to wear. Then again, she wondered if that would be too suspicious and she should just steal some before she left.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Susan answered it expectantly, dressed again and hair towel-dried and combed out, and there was another man that she didn't know. He was blond, long-haired, with darker colored facial hair. The man wasn't ugly by any means, but the huge burn scar covering half of his face didn't help him. The stranger had a sullen attitude, dressed like a biker, and he took in her appearance without really appreciating it. If anything, the way he stared at her meant he found her inadequate. "Hey," Susan shyly greeted, a little upset that despite her dress and showered appearance she didn't make a great first impression.

"I'm Dwight, but you can call me D," the blond man introduced himself in a dull sort of voice. Instantly, Susan knew this had to be Sherry's ex-husband. No wonder he found her lacking when he was married to a woman like Sherry. "You're Susan, huh?" he asked her.

Nodding, Susan stuck out her hand for him to shake. Well, compared to meeting everyone so far, Dwight was surprisingly the least hostile, next to Fat Joey of course. "Hey D. So, uh, are you here to show me around?"

For a moment, Dwight stared at her hand and Susan wondered if he was going to take it or reject it. Surprisingly, he did shake her hand, but it was very quick and he immediately released her hand after a second or two. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm supposed to show you your room and get whatever you ask for." He didn't exactly sound happy to do that.

Feeling a little sorry for him and a bit like a burden, Susan ducked her head. "Oh, well, I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I would love to do that. Room first if that's okay?"

"It's whatever you want," Dwight threw up his hands neutrally.

"Okay, then take me to my room and then I'll go with you to see the rest of the place." Susan exited Negan's bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, gesturing for Dwight to lead, which he did.

As he walked, Dwight glanced at her out of the side of his eye. "I'm not sure Negan would approve of me taking you downstairs to see everything like the cafeteria and commissary."

Thinking fast, Susan made her excuses, "Well, how do I know what I want or need unless I see what's offered?"

Shrugging lazily, Dwight conceded, "Fair point. But I promise you, whatever you want, you name it, we got it." He lapsed into silence again without expounding.

Slightly frustrated at that, Susan encouraged him to continue, "Well why don't you name some outlandish stuff for me then, D." She didn't want to name her supplies per se, just in case he could guess that she was planning to escape.

Without any kind of voice inflection, Dwight dutifully listed, "Ice cream, every kind of fresh fruit or vegetables you can think of, condoms, stuffed animals, every kind of clothes you can think of, music players, fresh chickens and eggs." He quieted as they got closer to the parlor, "You know, like I said, everything basically." His steps slowed, and then they stepped into the parlor.

In the parlor, Frankie and Tanya were painting each other's toenails and fingernails, a freshly opened bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers sitting between the two of them. Both girls looked up looking hopeful, doubtlessly hoping for Negan, but when they saw Susan and Dwight they sneered and ignored them. Michaela didn't look like she had moved from her spot, though Susan did notice that she was reading a different book. Both Amber and Sherry were still gone, too.

Carefully and quietly, Dwight continued through the parlor, heading to one of the closed doors that split off from it. Susan was piecing together in her head that since this was a factory building, the upper floors must have been for clerical work, like an administration building. This parlor wasn't actually a parlor, but a lobby that had a bunch of offices splitting off from it. When they had first formed the Sanctuary, they must have robbed a Rooms-To-Go to furnish it so lavishly.

Dwight reached a door with a freshly painted red 6 on it and stepped aside for Susan to have the honors of opening it. Without making a big deal out of it, Susan traced her fingers over the 6 before she pushed the door open. She was right in that this use to be an office because it was small, especially with a single bed crowded into it in front of the window, which was firmly secured. There was a dresser for clothes, but other than that there was little else. The dresser itself was empty, except for some black lingerie. The room would be Susan's to decorate, but she didn't plan on that. The only unexpected surprise was that her old reliable, purple backpack was sitting on the bed waiting for her.

Rushing into the room, Susan hopped on the bed, comfortably crossing her legs as she rummaged through her bag. Everything that she had in there was still there: spare pants, packaged food, matches. Everything was accounted for except for her pipe, but Negan had dropped in the woods when he first picked her up. Even the panties were still there, though Susan didn't care to keep them. "Ugh," she muttered, and then remembered that Dwight was still there waiting for her instructions. "Hey Dwight, is there some kind of laundry system here?"

From behind his curtain of stringy blond hair, Dwight gave her a funny look, "Yeah, but you don't have to do your laundry. Someone else will."

"Okay, well can I donate something to the clothes pile?" Susan did not want to keep the panties, even if they were washed and returned.

"Sure, I'll take it down to the commissary for you." Dwight offered, obviously not wanting to be with her any longer than he has to be.

"Oh, um, well people may get the wrong idea if they see you with my panties, Dwight," Susan explained. She was partly telling the truth for his benefit, but moreover she had to go down there with him, that would she would learn the layout and get what she needed from the commissary.

Looking down at his feet, hiding his very palpable embarrassment, Dwight muttered to her, "Yeah, okay. Let's go then." He jerked his head for the door, still refusing to look at her.

With a triumphant grin, Susan dumped her backpack in one of her draws and shut it, though she grabbed the panties to trade and stuck them back in her backpack. She slung it on with practiced ease and dutifully followed Dwight, closing her bedroom door gently behind her.

They were nearly out of the parlor when Sherry reappeared, looking flustered and generally upset. The moment seemed to freeze as Dwight's and Sherry's eyes met. Susan found herself holding her breath, feeling the tension thicken in the air between the former husband and wife. In addition to being awkward, Susan could swear that it felt like they were guilty, that they had both wronged the other equally. There wasn't any love left to feel between the two of them, though, that was for sure.

Tanya and Frankie broke the moment with their giggling when they saw what had happened, and instantly the spell was broken as they brushed past each other without a work spoken between them. Susan could feel the daggers in her back from Sherry's hateful glare as she followed Dwight out of the parlor. Once there was enough distance between them and the parlor, she could breathe again. Wisely, she chose not to say anything to Dwight about it, and he seemed even more withdrawn than before.

As they made their way down to the ground level of the factory, Susan tried to commit their path to memory. Dwight didn't take too many complicated twists or turns, so the trip seemed easy enough. The closer they got to commissary, the louder it got as they approached more people. Susan, not a sociable person, stiffened uncomfortably at the thought of interacting with a large group of people again, but her worries were needless. As soon as they appeared, everyone avoided her and Dwight as if they were one of the Dead. Not minding in the least if it was because of her or if it was because of Dwight, Susan took advantage of being ignored eagerly.

It was quite obvious that the people were clearing a path for them, directing their gaze anywhere but at them, though some shot looks at Dwight with a sneer. Dwight seemed used to the behavior, and Susan noticed the subtle shift as the shy Dwight from before bloomed under false aggressive confidence. False, she would say, because to her it seemed so half-hearted. Susan knew real cruel men, she'd met them before in other groups. Dwight was a pitiful comparison, more like a schoolyard bully than anything else. But she didn't care or mind his behavior; knowing enough of his history, she could excuse it. Besides, it wasn't like he was acting nasty to her, and it wasn't like these people, with the way there were obvious hostile to him, didn't deserve it.

Focusing on what she had to do, Susan ignored the people in favor of looking at the scavenged goods. Behind her, Dwight shadowed her every move, and when people got too close he scared them away with only a look. She appreciated it very much. Susan didn't want to make friends or a lasting impression, and if Dwight took the brunt of their hatred while she took whatever she wanted without impunity, then that was fine with her.

Of course, she did feel partially guilty. She could tell that these people were different from the wives and the Saviors themselves. They look less clean, less happy, a little hungry. By all means, though, they could look far worse if they were on the outside so her guilt slowly dissipated at the thought. Hitching her backpack up a little higher, she avoided eye contact with everyone as she examined all that was laid out and offered.

Fresh food wouldn't last long on the road, so she passed it by. She couldn't exactly see where the preserved food was, though. Or the water. In her backpack, she had a few food supplies left, but she definitely needed more. "D?" Susan waited to ask her question until she caught his stink-eye, "Where is all the canned food?"

Dwight shook his head, not in a condescending manner, but Susan was not quite sure what to make of it. "We don't distribute canned food to individuals. We use that in the cafeteria. Fresh food is considered a bonus that people buy if they don't want to spend their points on what is served at a cheaper price." His lip curled, the sneer more directed at the people rather than Susan, and she quickly turned away.

It looks like her escape plan is becoming more and more difficult every day. She moved on, trying to make herself look busy, hoping Dwight didn't read too much into her question. Maybe she could get food another way. "D?"

"Yeah?" His annoyance seemed to shift on her now.

"Well, what about like packaged food, you know? Like say, I don't know, snacks and stuffed?" With a hint of a challenge in her voice, she threw his words back at him, "I thought you said this place had everything?"

Dwight's mouth pulled down as he defended himself, "We do have everything. We just don't offer everything to everyone. Like weapons. That would be dangerous. Some stuff is reserved especially for the Saviors, like snack food and cigarettes and alcohol." He crossed his arms, sullen again. "I told you it would just be easier for me to get you what you want."

Susan shot him a look of her own. He was making things just as difficult for her and she was for him. "Okay, then take me to the snack food. I wanna see what's offered. You can keep your drinks and smokes."

With a small huff to himself, Dwight started away at a quick pace. Susan followed after on her bare feet, pleased with herself. He took her to a room guarded by a girl with what looked like a price bar tattooed on her neck. Honestly, Susan was trying not to judge her too hard. "Hey D," the girl said in a husky voice, "You ever gonna finish that game with me?" The girl then noticed Susan, and she stood up a little straighter. "Who's this now, #14?"

"#6, actually," Susan answered for herself. The girl as blonde, bigger than Susan in height and probably in muscle mass. She looked pretty tough, but Susan could be deceptively tougher than she looked, too. Part of her knew she could probably take the girl, but she didn't want to push her luck.

"Don't be jealous, Laura," Dwight interrupted, "it's not a good look for you." Susan had to bite her tongue in order to not add on that the neck tattoo wasn't particularly flattering either.

Laura's eyes flashed dangerously at Dwight. "I could've been one, but I don't want to sit on my ass all day." She gave Dwight a deliberate once over. "I don't want to be tied down either." Susan couldn't tell if that was Laura's way of flirting or if she was insinuating something else. Her tone was too accusing to be completely friendly.

"And that's why I'm not going to finish that game with you." Dwight moved past Laura, unimpressed, thick-skinned. Susan quickly followed him, hoping to not make any more of a scene than they already did.

Out of earshot from Laura, Dwight quickly muttered to Susan, "Hurry up and get what you want."

A little confused and perplexed that he didn't tell her off, Susan nodded and moved away, exploring the room and its contents. It was a small room, probably used to equipment storage, and it was lined wall to wall with shelves. The shelves were stacked, but organized. One shelf was strictly limited to cigarette packs and cigar boxes. At least two shelves were used for alcohol, one precariously stacked with bottles and one reserved to the packaged beer in plastic six-packs, cardboard containers, or boxed twelve-packs. Susan ignored them both, though, in favor for the three shelves lined top to bottom with delicious, precious snacks.

The Saviors must have cleared out every gas station from here to Washington to have this much of the stuff. An entire shelf was stuffed with chip bags and Pringles tubes, another shelf stocked with boxes of candy bars. The last shelf had drinks, non-alcoholic and not water. There were energy drinks, kiddy drinks, juice boxes – even bottles of sweet tea. Susan had to restrain herself from not dumping an entire shelf into her backpack.

It had been so long since she could find pleasure food like this. Normally when she scavenged a store, she'd turn up empty-handed. The one or two times she found candy bars they'd been inedible. Susan had a nut allergy, so unless she wanted to die by Snickers or Reece's Cups, she left them. Briefly she remembered the stint she was on one month when she was not so sane – going out of her way to try and find a Twinkie. She hadn't been successful, and that was how she'd broken her hand. Too reckless.

Now, though, she saw popcorn and Jolly Ranchers, her hidden weaknesses. Only dimly aware that Dwight was keeping an eye on her, Susan grabbed two bags of popcorn and a bag of potato chips, sour cream and onion flavored. With the candy, she hesitated. Snack foods on the road would last for a little while, while not very nourishing. The candy felt excessive, though. Maybe she should leave it for them. Besides, in her head she pictured all the little noisy wrappers leaving a perfect trail for the Saviors to find her. As compensation, she grabbed a bag of Doritos instead. Susan had an internal debate with herself if grabbing the Gatorade or 5-hour Energy bottles looked suspicious. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Dwight was looking through the beer, effectively distracted. She grabbed a handful of the energy drinks, so small that they would be easily hidden, and then for good measure grabbed a few Capri-Sun pouches. It was like she was in college again.

"Can you toss me that bag of pretzels?" Dwight lowly asked, breaking into Susan's reverie. She did as he asked, and he tucked it in his jacket, holding a pack of beers in one hand.

Dwight watched her for a moment, taking note of how Susan shot the candy a longing look. "Take what you want, Susan." His voice startled her as she quickly snapped her head back to look at him, but Dwight continued to explain, nonplussed, "If you don't take it, someone else will and you'll regret it. This may be last candy left in the world. Besides, this shit expires."

With that little encouragement, Susan nodded and took the Jolly Ranchers. While she was still here on vacation, she would eat these, but once she left, she'd leave these behind. Just as something to remember her by, if she didn't finish off the entire bag first. When she was on her period, sugar was a must, so she doubted she'd waste any of the precious candies. "Okay, D. Thanks for this." Susan zipped up her back pack and slung it back on, untucking her hair from the straps. "Can you take me to the clothes section, now?" She smiled at her own joke, and Dwight, mute, motioned for her to follow. He didn't comment on her other snack choices, and Susan was grateful that he wasn't that sociably chatty.

Leading her back out of the room, Laura didn't antagonize them further, and they ignored her. They cut through the room to the other side where clothes were piled up. None of the clothes were particularly nice or fancy – that seemed to be reserved for the Saviors, too. Dwight, seeming to read her thoughts, asked her in a low voice, "If you want to look for lingerie, I can take you to that closet."

"No," Susan answered too quickly, and then calmed a little. "No, I need regular clothes, too. I never even wore dresses much before…" She trailed off, the sentence not needing to be finished. Carefully, she started picking through the clothes. She needed stuff that was in her size, appropriate for the weather, sturdy. It had to cover skin, but not so much that she'd suffocate. Dwight turned people away, and Susan – after a lot of rummaging looking for her appropriate larger size – found a few pants and shirts that would work. Quickly, she stuffed them into her backpack, nervously looking around and hoping that what she picked wouldn't give away her intentions.

As she slung her backpack on again, adjusting it comfortably, Susan briefly considered that if Negan knew she had been down here, he might want to see what she got. Glancing down at her feet, she knew she also needed shoes, and not just the heels that Negan wanted her to have. She wondered why they had taken her boots and not returned them to her yet. The clothes she had been wearing when she arrived were in the laundry system, she could guess. But her boots…

"D?" Dwight looked at her. Susan shyly asked, "Where are my boots?"

"You don't need boots. You need heels. I'll take you to them." Dwight ignored her question.

A little annoyed, Susan dutifully followed him to a closet reserved for the wives. This one, too, was guarded, but by a man this time. He didn't look exactly bored, and the closer Susan studied his face the more familiar he looked. "Hey, D."

"David," Dwight greeted, barely managing politeness.

Immediately, Susan was defensive. This was the pervert who pawed at her good panties. She didn't say a word to him, and slipped inside after Dwight, ignoring how David leaned close to her as she passed. Now that she was in the Victoria's Secret closet, Susan could only imagine how David kept himself entertained while guarding this.

There was a shoe-rack, and Susan knew that heels were unavoidable, so she went ahead and picked a ridiculous pair. Negan said he wanted her heels to be tall, and it didn't matter if her heels were only an inch or over a foot – Susan knew she wouldn't be able to walk properly. Maybe if she proved the point to Negan, he would give her boots back to her. Not wanting to be near David any longer than she had to, Susan shoved her feet into the only pair of heels that came in her size, and even then, they pinched her toes uncomfortably. They added about five inches to her height, and when she stood up straight, she was a little taller than Dwight. Dwight noticed, his frown deepening, and Susan giggled in response. Maybe the heels weren't so bad then.

In another attempt to appease Negan, Susan rifled through the negligee, looking for one in her size. Clothes shopping has always been difficult for her, apocalypse or not. Without really thinking, Susan asked Dwight, "D? You think he'd like me in another color or should I just stick with the black?" She was fingering a silky yellow garment, and while yellow worked well with her dark skin, black was more slimming. Immediately she realized the ridiculous nature in her question and the callousness of asking Dwight. It wasn't like he cared, and he probably didn't want to think about Negan in that respect. Especially since Sherry was married to him. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. It's a stupid question anyway."

Slowly, though, Dwight answered her anyway. "You can wear yellow, I guess. Mostly the wives ask for red and black and white, though." Looking at the yellow negligee she had her hand on rather than Susan herself, he continued, "That one is pretty."

Pleasantly surprised, Susan smiled at him. "Thank, D. I'll take this one then." Gently she pulled it off the hanger and folded it up. She laid it on top of the other items in her back pack, effectively hiding everything else.

Dwight had wandered away, looking at a purple two-piece, his too perfectly blank. Susan wondered if he did actually care about Sherry. Earlier it didn't seem that way, but now that she thought about it, it would be stupid for him to show how he really feels. "Okay, D, can we go to the laundry now? If that's okay." The more she could learn about the Sanctuary, the easier it would be for her to navigate and plan her escape when the time comes.

With that blank look still held on his face, Dwight glanced as Susan and shrugged disinterestedly. "Sure. We'll swing by my room so I can drop this off," he hefted the beer and pretzels higher under his arm, "and I'll take you to where they wash the laundry outside." He kept his voice carefully flat and emotionless, not too eager to be helpful or too annoyed with her requests either.

Once again, Dwight led her out of the supply closet and Susan followed close on his heels, avoiding eye contact with David. Despite her best attempts, she heard David whistle behind her, "Damn, I can see why Negan would pick up a babe in the woods like you when you have an ass like that hanging all out."

Immediately, Susan jerked around, affronted, partially ready to rip David a new one. Luckily, Dwight stepped back around her, not even laying a hand on her shoulder to push her away. "You better watch it, David. If Negan hears you making comments like that, you may not even live to regret it." Then, before Susan could add a biting remark or David himself could retort to the threat, Dwight gestured for Susan to hurry along.

Out of earshot of David, Dwight muttered to her under his breath, "Stupid David is partially right, Susan. Your dress is hiked up in the back." To preserve her modesty, he pointedly glanced around, moving forward to shield her.

Red with shame, Susan yanked her dress back down. The heavier her backpack got, the easier it was for her short dress to crawl up. Her lacy black panties did little to cover her skin. "Sorry," she mumbled, still incredibly embarrassed.

But Dwight only waved his hand dismissively, and continued on, leading her out of the open factory floor down a hallway. Susan found that the longer she was with Dwight, the more he was becoming more than just tolerable. Honestly, she couldn't see why people were so hostile to Dwight. As she dutifully followed him down the hallway, the din of the crowded factory floor fading and the lights dimmer, Susan believed that while she and Dwight wouldn't be friends, she appreciated having an ally besides Negan. She was still planning on leaving, though, there was no doubt about that. Dwight was unwittingly helping her to do that, and he was doing an excellent job.


	5. Introspection and Conversations

As Dwight and Susan travelled further into the factory, Susan's escape plan started to be fully formed. Sure, she had her doubts because it felt like she was wandering a catacomb, but Susan was smart and good with directions. That was one of her best skills when she was out in the world trying to survive, because she only got lost twice, and once was when she was ill and the other was when she was starting to go crazy. For the Sanctuary, she could make a mental-map easily enough.

Besides, Susan was very interested in what all this community could offer. This building used to be a factory, and as she passed by some rooms she saw that there was a locker room offering showers. This must have been a chemical or industrious factory to offer that. There were several closed doors marked with numbers, and Susan thought briefly of the red 6 on her own bedroom door. She doubted that these rooms were for the common workers, they probably belonged to the Saviors as part of their perks for the job. It was quiet for the most part, the place smelling of cleaning supplies, a pleasant smell compared to the usual rot and smell of bodies Susan was used to on the outside.

Further in they travelled, and Susan started to lag behind, her heels hindering her progress. She was forced to walk slower or risk tumbling down with a sprained ankle. Dwight didn't notice, and Susan didn't say anything, not wanted to come off as a whiner. Thankfully, so far, she hasn't tripped, though she was starting to miss her old, reliable boots more and more each time she heard her loud heels click-clack on the tiled floor. Her heavy backpack was also slowing her down, but Susan was used to carrying this much normally, so she wasn't about to complain about that either.

Eventually Dwight slowed down his pace and stopped in front of a door. He looked back at Susan, and waited with a bored look on her face for her to catch up to him. Once she was close enough, Dwight explained, "This is my room, you can just wait outside right here."

Susan nodded her understanding, and Dwight slipped inside his room. He left the door open, though, and Susan hovered at the threshold. She knew it wouldn't exactly be wise for her to be in Dwight's room; and just like earlier where he gave her respectful space by waiting outside her room, she was going to be pay him the same courtesy. Still, she was going to look around his room.

It was interesting, everything he had compiled in there. The room was cozy, with a full-sized bed and cabinets, there was even a fridge. Susan's beliefs that the Saviors stole furniture from a Rooms-To-Go was starting to solidify in her mind. This furniture wasn't the cheap kind one could buy from a Walmart or Target and assemble on their own. She noted with interest the mounted bass fish on his wall, something she didn't think Dwight – or anyone with taste really – would decorate a room with. But she supposed that in the apocalypse, one couldn't exactly be picky. Dwight had a TV with a VCR, and Susan couldn't remember the last time she used one of those – probably in elementary school to watch Bill Nye for their science lesson. Out of everything in the room, though, one of the most surprising items had to be the chess board with hand-carved pieces. It was quaint, and Susan was beginning to think that Dwight had hidden talents. He was someone she should watch out for.

While Susan swept her gaze curiously around his room, Dwight had stuck his beer in the fridge and shoved his bag of pretzels in the back of one of his cabinets behind an unopened jar of peanut butter. Once he finished with that, he looked back at Susan, catching her guilty start for looking around his room. He didn't comment, though, having expected her to snoop. "Let's go."

Wordlessly, Susan nodded, but just as she pulled away from the doorframe, she heard a scrape and the definite sound of heavy footfalls from boots. The sound echoed down the hallways, so the origin was hard to tell what direction exactly it was coming from. Dwight's eyes widened and he frantically pushed Susan out of the door way and slammed his door shut behind him as he stepped out. "Just stay right here, and don't say anything."

Bewildered, Susan watched as Dwight collected himself again. Part of her was shocked because that was the first-time Dwight had laid his hands on her. He did it quickly, not too rough, but Susan was under the impression that touching a wife was a definite no-no. If anything, Susan expected him to drag her inside his bedroom to hide; but again, if they were found that way, people might get the wrong ideas. Dwight was taking a risk just being around her, even if it was under Negan's orders. She had so many questions, but he told her not to speak. Susan had no idea of what exactly to expect. So, when the origin of the noise finally rounded the corner, Susan could do little else but gasp in both shock and horror.

Four men were dragging an unconscious man, bloody and obviously beaten, brown hair greasy and long. He wore a filthy sweatshirt with matching pants, the color once gray but now brown with grime and – orange from paint? The four men each had him by one of his limbs, but despite that his knees and part of his body still scraped the floor, leaving a trail of blood. The man wasn't dead or surely, they would have stabbed him through the brain by now. No, no, why go through all the trouble unless he was the prisoner. Susan suddenly realized that this was Daryl, and he must have been brutally punished for trying to escape. Even though, it seemed like they made it deliberately easy for him to escape. It was a test.

As the men passed, Susan avoided eye-contact with all of them in favor of looking at Dwight in question. Dwight in turn avoided eye-contact with her, his gaze riveted on the prisoner Daryl, his look flat. He didn't seem surprised at the treatment at all, and Susan could almost swear that Dwight looked … sympathetic? Pitying? "Let's go, Susan."

Surprisingly, Dwight started after the men, and with no other choice Susan was forced to follow, stepping carefully around the fresh red blood trail they carelessly left in their wake. Her heels and Dwight's own footsteps joined the scraping sound and the clatter of their boots. None of the men were speaking, huffing and puffing. They reached a door with a crude piece of paper attached. Susan tried to read the paper – 'Dipshit Training Center' – but then they ripped open the door and tossed the man inside. Susan coughed, the smell of feces, vomit, and urine over-powering her once the door was open, but the men, gagging too, quickly (thankfully) shut the door, pushing the button on the handle to lock it afterwards.

That seemed to be that, and three men dispersed. One of the men, a black guy, stayed. "What are you doing with the new wife, Dwight?"

A little annoyed that he asked Dwight rather than herself, Susan spoke up, "He's taking me to the laundry. And my name is Susan."

The man had the audacity to look Susan up and down, uninterested, before turning back to Dwight. "She didn't need to see this," he continued to talk about her like she wasn't there.

"But I do," Dwight argued, stepping toe to toe with the man. "He's my prisoner, Gary. Negan gave him to me to break." Despite Gary being taller, Dwight tilted his chin, unintimidated.

"Negan may have assigned you to the prisoner, but we were the ones to beat the shit out of him – under Negan's commands. Negan planned his escape Dwight. Clearly you aren't watching him closely, because you didn't notice he was missing." There was biting silence as the two men exchanged glares. Gary's voice dripped dangerously lower as he continued, "You aren't breaking him well enough for Negan's tastes. Take it up with Negan if you have a problem, but I'm following orders." With that, Gary muscled past Dwight, following after the other men.

At a loss, Susan watched as Dwight took a deep breath in. He glowered at Gary's retreating figure and then the cell door for moment, before walking away quickly. "Stay right there," Dwight called back over his shoulder before he disappeared into a nearby room. Susan awkwardly stood there for a moment, nervously eyeing the door. There were going to break that man, but why? What could possibly be the reason for his punishment?

Glancing to see if Dwight was coming back, Susan took a step toward the cell door, holding her breath out of fear just as much as to avoid inhaling the rank smell. She carefully pressed an ear to the door, listening closely. Nothing could be heard at first. Then there was a blast of obnoxious music.

 _"_ _We're on Easy Street,_

 _And it feels so sweet,_

 _'Cause the world is 'but a treat,_

 _When you're on Easy Street."_

Immediately, Susan yanked herself away from the door as if it burned her, and she nearly collapsed into Dwight. He just gave her a dirty look before he double-checked to see if the door was locked. "I thought I told you to stay right there."

"You did, but you didn't say I couldn't touch anything," Susan countered, trying to calm her racing heart, "I didn't go anywhere, D. I did just as you asked."

"No, you didn't. I told you not to say anything," Dwight was outright glaring at her now before he rapidly walked away from her.

"I didn't want you to get in trouble, and I wanted to be treated with respect. I may be some trophy wife, but that still makes me human. I'm not a thing to flaunt and objectify for the male gaze," She spouted the feminist manifesto she hadn't had to use since college in order to keep the frat boys off her ass like the pesky flies they were. Hitching up her backpack and smoothing down her dress, Susan carefully followed on her wobbly heels, not able to go as fast as she wanted without fear of snapping an ankle every time she wavered for a moment, off-balanced. She tossed one glance back toward the door, catching the too-upbeat lyrics as they rounded a corner, leaving.

 _"_ _Yeah, we got a front row seat,_

 _Oh, to a life that can't be beat,_

 _Right here on Easy Street."_

Dwight only snorted at her rant, but otherwise didn't argue with her further. He was back to giving her the silent treatment instead, ignoring how she was once again falling behind. Maybe, Susan's words expressing her concern about not getting him into trouble really touched him in some way. He made it hard to tell, though.

They lapsed into silence, but Susan found that unlike before, she couldn't stand it. She had too many burning questions bubbling up inside her throat, begging to come out. So, she asked one. "What did he do to be treated that way?"

Turning to look at her, Dwight's scarred face and green eyes didn't reveal anything that he was feeling. Again, Susan was struck by how hard he was to read sometimes whereas other times she could clearly see the invisible weight of – something – of the world he carried on his scrawny shoulders. He surprised Susan when he started to explain, "He was part of a group. They killed a lot of us. So we killed two of theirs – an example. It was originally just supposed to be one, but Daryl, the prisoner, he acted out. Negan warned them not to, but he did it anyway. So, Negan killed another. But he admired Daryl's anger, so much he decided he would become a Savior. But Daryl is stubborn. We have to break him first."

Thinking it over, Susan now found another reason she didn't stay in communities. Group dynamics with other groups never went well as there is a constant competition for supplies, a battle for territory. It's like the animal kingdom again. "And Daryl's group?"

"They collect supplies for us now, and in exchange we offer protection."

"You mean in exchange you don't kill them all," Susan clarified, going straight to the point, the truth, the heart of the matter whatever it was – part of her was baffled about why she was asking. Sure, her curiosity was rampant, but why should she even care so much when she isn't involved?

"No, Negan believes life is precious, a valuable resource. It's a commodity. We do protect them." Dwight looks surprised by his own words, and he touches the side of his face that's burned before he yanks his hand away.

Of course, Susan caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Though Tanya and Frankie told her that Dwight was threatened with death, it seems like death wasn't Negan's first choice anyway since Dwight was branded. Unless, Negan was going to execute him through fire rather than through Lucille. Instead of choosing to comment on the burn, Susan pushed, "Like the mafia offers protection?"

But Dwight only shook his head at her. "No. I'm serious. People are a resource." It's like he's quoting Negan directly, reciting some kind of community motto, but Susan is still unsure about the matter. However, she drops it, not wanting to argue with him any further before he gets really mad at her. They continue to walk, now in silence.

Soon Dwight was pushing open a door that led to the outside, and Susan had to squint into the sun, blinking rapidly so her eyes would adjust to the light. As she stepped outside, the heavy door slamming behind her, Susan's skin warmed up and she remembered what it was like to be out here again. Instinctively, she tensed up, catching the smell of rot that signaled the Dead, and when she caught sight of them wandering the perimeter outside the fence, she only marginally relaxed. She caught another smell – soap – and spotted what the Sanctuary considered its laundry service.

There were several workers washing clothes and sheets in storage tubs, filled to the brim with water and soap. They had actual washboards and brushes, and behind them a few more workers were hanging the freshly washed clothes on laundry lines with clothes pins. The more laundry they hanged, the less of the Dead that were visible. Despite Dwight stepping outside with Susan, the workers kept their heads down and continued washing. The scrape of their brushes and the splashing of water couldn't drown out the never-ending groans of the Dead just beyond the fence, though.

It seemed like an oppressing job, if only for the reminder that while the Sanctuary was exactly that – a sanctuary from the Dead – they were still trapped here, working endlessly. Again, though, Susan had to remind herself that it was better to be a prisoner here, in some sense at least (not like Daryl, though), than to be surviving out there. Out there, there was no assurance for anything, food or life itself. Out there, one was only biding time before death would come. Still, Susan knew that she would be going out there again soon. Nothing could change her mind about that. She'd rather take her chances and die out there no matter what because… because… Susan tried to remember her reasoning.

Because inside, in a community, connections to people would be formed and her allegiances would shift and instead of dying on her own terms she'd throw her life away in an instant trying to save someone else who would only die later. Being part of a community was pointless. They were all going to die anyway. Why die for these people? None of them meant anything. Not the workers, not the Saviors, not the prisoner, not Dwight, not even Negan.

Negan.

Inevitably, Susan's mind turned to him. What could compel this man to create the Sanctuary and bring in these people? Sure, he lived like a king, complete with a harem and everything, but why bother support others? Susan couldn't see the appeal of owing anyone anything, be it providing service or protection. On top of that, why would he shoulder the protection of other communities? Here, he would know and grow close to some of these people, care about them. But other people? They could be monsters. Like Daryl's group that killed many of the Saviors. Why bother protecting them when they could get revenge? Seems like they had enough power to subjugate them. Negan was a mystery.

"Susan," Dwight's voice broke into her reverie. Susan blinked and looked at him, eyebrows raised in question. Dwight stared at her hard in return. "It's okay. They can't get to you."

At first, Susan was confused, wondering if Dwight was saying something meaningful, saying that no one will matter to her. Then she realized that he was talking about the Dead, reassuring her that she was safe. It was sweet of him, but Susan could handle herself. "Yeah," she numbly replied, at a loss for anything else to say. It's not like she could explain what she was thinking. She herself barely understood it as it was.

"Well, we're here. Give them the laundry, and then we'll go." Dwight impatiently shifted from foot to foot, motioning towards the workers. He looked over to the fence, scanning it. Susan looked too, and noticed that there was a woman walking the inside. The woman was short and dark skinned, the ends of her curly hair bleached blonde. She looked tough despite her stature, even without the pistol strapped to her thigh. Susan couldn't tell if that Savior woman was there to keep the threats out or to keep the workers in.

Pulling herself away from that train of thought, Susan looked back at Dwight. "Which one of them should I talk to? They're all busy, D."

With a heavy sigh, Dwight looked away from the woman and headed over to the workers. Again, Susan was forced to follow him. "Gordon," Dwight barked, and a miserable but otherwise healthy looking man snapped to his feet, still holding a soapy shirt in his hand. "You're going to wash something for Susan," Dwight began to order Gordon.

"But after its washed and everything," Susan cut in and took over, "I want it to be put into the clothes circulation or something. I don't want it anymore." As an afterthought, Susan added, "Bad memories." She didn't know why she bothered to explain that. It was cryptic and eerie, especially since she wanted Gordon to wash a pair of panties. Besides, everyone has bad memories now in this new world.

But Gordon and Dwight only looked at her expectantly, neither one asking for a further explanation, thankfully. "Give it to him, then, Susan." Dwight, again impatient and imperious, commanded her this time.

Realizing her mistake, Susan quickly shrugged off her backpack and rummaged through it for the panties. Once she found them, she blushed, wishing she asked Dwight for a female worker. Still, this was who she got stuck with. She quickly shoved the panties at Gordon, and it startled Gordon so much that he dropped the shirt back in the water with a wet plop as he forced to accept the panties.

The water sloshed on Dwight's jeans, and in retaliation, he snapped at Gordon, "Jesus, be more careful next time!" Gordon flinched away, not saying anything, not apologizing. With that kind of reaction, Susan was expecting Dwight to strike Gordon, but he didn't. Dwight looked like he was about to say something else, but the distant sound of a woman's voice called for him instead. "You wait over here, Susan. Don't help him," Dwight told her before he moved away to go towards the woman guarding the fence.

Distantly, Susan heard as the woman asked Dwight to cover a shift only for Dwight to ask why she was minding the fence more than the workers. The woman was starting to say something about a weak point in the fence – not enough of the Dead ones to cover the area. Then Gordon unexpectedly spoke to Susan, "You should have never come here."

Forced to look into his sad eyes, Susan couldn't find her voice. His statement was just ominous enough to leave her uncomfortable, but it was more than that. Gordon looked like he had his soul sucked out.

"Here, there," Susan found herself speaking without really thinking about her words, "Makes no difference. Dead outside or dead inside. Dead is dead." Before Gordon could say anything else to her, Susan moved away deliberately signaling that this conversation – if it could be called that – was over.

She was upset with herself. Despite her words, despite everything that she's seen here, Susan didn't think she believed what she said anymore. Now, she had lived in many communities, but this one had the best protection, the best supplies. The people seemed miserable, but Susan believed they were spoiled. In every community, there would be those on top that hogged a few good supplies for themselves, but still anything was better than out there alone. Susan only preferred it out there because she hated people, because…

Because she wanted to die alone, not a burden or a reason to grieve for anyone else. Being part of communities temporarily would only keep her temporarily sane, temporarily alive. But now, this place was different. It forced too much introspection from her whereas with others she was put to mind-numbing labor, and when she was alone she was too busy trying to survive. So much for a vacation.

Just then, Dwight came back. "Are we finished now?"

Looking up at Dwight, Susan nodded, zipping up her backpack and slinging it back on. She didn't bother to ask about the Savior woman on guard just like she didn't bother to tell him about what Gordon said either. Just by looking at the broken, soulless worker, Susan could tell he wasn't long for this world. Early after the end of the world, when people started looking like that and talking like that, they found death somehow. And it was true, they found death, actively sought it. Death didn't have to go looking for them, they made it easy.

Without further preamble, Dwight headed back inside, and Susan hitched up her backpack and followed after, keeping her head down. She didn't look back at Gordon or anything else.

As they made their way back out to the main factory floor, Susan concentrated, testing to see if she remembered the way. The further in they got, the more she was reassured that she could navigate successfully. They came to Daryl's cell, that same song still playing, and it teased Susan with its lyrics.

 _"_ _It's our moment in the sun,_

 _And it's only just begun._

 _It's time to have a little fun."_

She walked a little faster, hoping that the beat wouldn't get stuck in her head, actively trying to not think about the prisoner passed out in his cell. Dwight caught up to her after he checked to see if the door was still locked and Daryl was still there, unconscious. They passed by Dwight's bedroom, and didn't say a word about that either. They skirted around Daryl's blood trails, Dwight muttering something about getting some workers to clean this up. Susan didn't comment on it. She knew they were nearing the factory floor as the noise level gradually started to increase.

Now it was a matter of seeing if she knew the way back to the parlor where her bedroom was. When she got back, she had plans to sort through her supplies and dine on Jolly Ranchers alone. She didn't want to deal with the other wives. But she'd also rather not be left alone with her thoughts.

Instantly, though, her plans were foiled because as she and Dwight stepped out onto the main floor they both looked up and saw Negan casually resting his elbows against the railing, overseeing everything. Instantly, Negan saw them both, and Susan was magnetically drawn to him, unable to look away. She was somewhat aware that Dwight was shuffling around behind her, but her feet were leading her to Negan. He was smiling at her again, a beacon of happiness compared to all the misery of everyone else and Susan was attracted like a moth to a flame. Negan was quite the attractive figure after all, just so entrancing, just…beautiful.

Before she knew it, she was beside Negan on the landing, and she had nearly made it into his open arms when her heels stumbled on the uneven floor. Clumsily, she ended up collapsing against his chest.

"Damn, Susan, I know I'm fucking irresistible, but you don't have to throw yourself at me." Negan joked, making sure she was steady on her feet before he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He had one hand buried in her hair, wrapped around the back of her neck. The other arm was slung over the top of her backpack. Susan, happily crushed against his warm chest, nestled her cheek against the soft fabric of his white shirt, thankful that he let his black leather jacket flop open. She could smell the same soap from outside on his shirt, and she forced herself to forget Gordon's stupid, dismal face and foreboding words. "I missed you," Susan admitted, and she was surprised at herself for meaning it. She chalked it up to being left alone to her morbid thoughts too much. And, partially, she was missing sex right now, too. That was something that kept her mind too occupied to think depressing things.

Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, Negan chuckled. "You miss my big, fat, fucking swinging dick is all, Susan." Again, he kissed her, though this time he pressed the kiss to the crown of her hair. "Don't worry, I miss your crazy, fucking pussy, too. You won't have to wait that long before I'm buried balls fucking deep inside you again." He squeezed her to him tighter. "I'm guessing Dwighty boy once again cannot fucking provide for a woman's needs."

Unsure of where Negan was heading with that comment, Susan shifted around until she was pressed against his side, both of them now facing a sullen Dwight who stared at his boots. In that moment, he looked like a child in the principal's office, waiting for his parents to be called. Susan's heart spasmed, and once again she surprised herself. Out of all the things she had seen today, between Daryl's bloody body and Gordon's hopelessness, as of now she really only felt sorry for Dwight. "He was just showing me around, helping me get some things," Susan explained to Negan, looking up at him. "Look, I got the heels you wanted." She stuck out one foot to show one of that black, tall heels off to Negan.

Again, Negan chuckled at her. "Yeah, I could see you got the shoes since you can barely walk fucking straight in them." He bent down and whispered hotly in her ear, "Don't worry, Susan. After I'm finished with you, it won't matter if you're wearing fucking heels or not. You'll still not be able to walk fucking straight." Straightening back up, pretending that he hadn't just whispered that to her, he somewhat innocently asked Susan, "So what other goodies did you get down there? Something for me too, I hope?"

Susan blushed, remembering the yellow negligee, but then she instantly remembered all the other suspicious items she had gathered. "Um," she nervously laughed, avoiding the eyes of both men, hoping she was coming off as coy, "yes."

It seemed to work because Negan smiled, accepting her short answer to be out of embarrassment due to present company – namely Dwight. "Well, Dwighty boy, thank you for watching over my Susan today. She didn't give you any trouble, did she?" Negan's arm clamped down on Susan tighter, still managing to apply a lot of pressure despite her backpack acting as a barrier.

"No, sir, she didn't. It was no problem," Dwight dutifully answered Negan, though his gaze was still directed at the floor. The more Susan studied his visage, the more his face reminded her of Gordon's; and she didn't like that.

Satisfied with Dwight's answer, not seeming to notice the man's downtrodden demeanor, Negan nodded. "Fucking good. I'd hate to punish her," he teased Susan, but Susan only looked away, red-faced and too shy to openly flirt back.

"Well, on to other fucking business matters, Dwighty boy." Negan loosened his hold around Susan, and she took that as an unspoken signal for her to step away while they talked. So, she did. She didn't go far, just back to the railing, overlooking the factory floor much in the same manner as Negan did earlier. Negan continued speaking to Dwight. "Daryl, he is going ape-shit."

Nodding shortly, Dwight confirmed, "Yup."

"And you? You are hustling," Negan blithely continued, leaning back on his heels.

"It's working." Dwight's tone seemed a little desperate to Susan's ears, as if he was forcing himself to believe a lie.

"It's working slow," Negan amended Dwight's statement pointedly, "but, hey man, some people are harder to break than others."

"Yeah, he's close." Dwight was still maintaining that desperate tone.

"Yeah, he is," Negan said, and when Susan side-eyed the two she could tell that that was all Dwight needed to hear for him to relax.

Negan bit his lip before he spoke again. "Since you're doing such an awesome job, you want to have a little blast from the past with you-know-who?"

Susan's eyebrows shot up in surprise – Negan didn't strike her as the type to share unless he had an orgy in mind. She didn't have to look at Dwight to know that his brow must be furrowed in question, too. Was Negan testing Dwight's loyalty?

Soon, though, Negan chuckled again, and both Dwight (and Susan who didn't even register that she had tensed up) relaxed once again. Well, as much as anyone can really relax in Negan's presence. "I'm kidding, man," Negan reassured Dwight, "lighten up." He wet his lips, and then surprised both Dwight and Susan once more. "Pick whoever you want, as long as she says yes."

Susan couldn't help but turn around now at this point. Did that offer include her? Negan looked back at her, and again it was like he read her mind because he then answered her question. "Except for Susan here. Susan and I haven't gotten to know each other fucking well enough before I let another man make an impression on her like that." He reached out and combed his ungloved fingers through her hair, and Susan leaned into his touch, his words soothing her.

"Hell, I think Susan would be too much for you anyway, Dwight," Negan bragged. "She's my dominant girl. Michaela, she's flexible. Frankie has magic fucking fingers, as you would figure. Tanya is adventurous, open to pretty much anything, even anal, filthy girl that she is. Amber is sweet and innocent, good for cuddling, does whatever you tell her to. Sherry, well, you know how Sherry is," Negan bluffed about Sherry, and Susan knew just from that that he and Sherry haven't done anything.

"But Susan here?" Negan whistled lowly. "Damn is she a little spitfire when she fucks, and I fucking love it." For emphasis, Negan tugged a little on the ends of her hair and immediately Susan's mouth fell open on its own accord. She didn't make a sound, but her eyes were rolling back, nearly watering. Susan clenched her thighs together under her dress, a slave to his touch, and she didn't even care if Dwight was here to witness it. This was just the kind of contact she had been craving.

"You know what?" Negan began as he watched Susan's cock-hardening reaction. "Maybe I will let you take a fucking roll around in the fucking hay with Susan here. She's insatiable enough. But only if you let me watch. I gotta teach you about what she likes, right, so that you can satisfy her ra-fucking-pacious needs. Or maybe you'd prefer a firsthand demonstration, Dwighty boy, before I let you have her. Gotta get her all wet and shaking and needy and just fucking ready for you, after all." While he spoke, Negan gently tilted Susan's head back, and Susan was surprised to find that his words were getting her wet just as much as the hair-pulling was.

"Well, it's like I said, you have to be agreeing to it Dwight, and Susan here has to be just as fucking amiable. Seems she's wet and willing enough now, but what do you say, Dwighty boy?" Negan shot a dark look at Dwight in question, and he tugged just hard enough on Susan's hair for her to release a low moan.

Dwight, on the other hand, bearing witness to the interesting interaction between Susan and Negan, looked petrified. He had blanched white, not exactly out of horror or disgust, but just something else. The man remained mute, not giving Negan an answer.

Of course, Negan was having none of that. He released Susan, and coolly turned back around to face Dwight fully. "Oh, crap." Negan rubbed his hand through his stubble before he asked, "Are you okay down there?" His eyes flicked down to Dwight's crotch and he pointed his gloved index finger at it, too. "Your penis?" He needlessly clarified his question, "I mean, that guy, he uh…" Negan snapped his jaw shut with an audible click of his teeth as he teased seriously, "clomped on it. Or is it…" He made a whistling noise like a deflating rocket falling out of the sky, his finger mimicking the movement, "down for the count?" He laughed again, obviously having fun at Dwight's expense.

Meanwhile, Susan was using this as an opportunity to recover. Catching her breath, she willed herself to calm down, knowing that Negan would satisfy her needs later. Part of her wondered, though, what it would be like to have Dwight as well as Negan. Immediately, she shook that thought out of her head. That had to be all for show, just another way to dig under Dwight's skin and get her all hot and bothered in the process. While her arousal simmered down, Susan dimly registered that what Negan was saying, while the teasing a little cruel for Dwight to endure, was funny, and she had to stifle her giggles.

Finally, Dwight spoke up for himself. "I'm fine, but I'm gonna pass." he didn't sound too bothered by Negan's teasing. He was keeping his voice purposely light and level, attempting to be agreeable. "Man, I'm cool."

Suspicious, Negan tilted his head at Dwight, gnawing at his bottom lip. "Huh," he uttered as he released it, "Are you cool, though, Dwight?" He stepped closer to the subordinate. "I mean, I just said that it was happy hour at the Pussy Bar and Dwight eats for free." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Susan, he continued in that same dangerous voice, "Susan over here was wetting her panties at the thought of being double-teamed by us, and you're telling me no? Is that cool to deny either of us like that?"

"I haven't finished the job," Dwight explained his reasoning in a quiet sort of voice. At first, he had avoided Negan's gaze, but now he lifted his chin and looked at his superior dead-on. "I," He stuttered a bit. "I haven't earned it yet. Right?" He still sought Negan's approval.

Bewildered, Negan shook his head. "The hell you talking about? You earn what you take."

Just then Dwight's walkie-talkie crackled and clicked as a woman's voice interrupted them. "We have an orange situation."

Dwight lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth to answer, but Negan quickly snatched it out of his grasp. "Gimme that." He gave Dwight a dirty look, obviously showing that this conversation wasn't completely dismissed yet. "Arat," he addressed the woman on the walkie-talkie, "what do you got? Grab-and-go?"

Arat answered promptly, "Yeah, he could've only gone three ways: the moth, the angel, or the hard way."

The walkie-talkie was passed back to Dwight and he quickly replied, "It's D. I'll meet you at the gate." He strapped the walkie-talkie back to his belt, but Negan wasn't finished with him yet.

"I mean," Negan started, "I want my shit back, but that is grunt work. Why don't you have Fat Joey go and do it? God knows he needs the exercise." Susan shot Negan a look at that. Though her interaction with Fat Joey earlier had been brief, she thought he was too sweet to be bullied like that. Negan, not noticing the look on her face, continued to address Dwight, "You? You don't have to do it, Dwight." Negan sounded genuinely confused by Dwight's actions.

Dwight's response was only all the more confusing. "I'd like to do it," he assured Negan.

In response, Negan chuckled, the sound short but real. From where he had been leaning back on his heels, he shifted forward, clamping his hand on the back of Dwight's neck. Gently, he bumped his forehead against Dwight's for a moment, tilting down towards the shorter, smaller man. Negan had closed his eyes, took a breath, Dwight unconsciously mimicking the movement. Negan's nose had crowded out Dwight's. From where he held Dwight in place, Negan's fingers flexed, combing through his stringy, blond hair a bit at the ends. All the while, Negan was smiling softly.

The moment was so intimate, Susan felt like a voyeur seeing it happen. Then, Negan pulled away. "Good boy," he told Dwight proudly, and to reassert his masculinity, he clapped Dwight hard on the shoulder twice, sniffing. Dwight just stood there and took it. And Susan just watched, enraptured with it all.

And in that moment, she wished she was Dwight and that Negan would call her a good girl. More than that, though, Susan unconsciously found herself admiring Negan for more than his sexual prowess. She was in trouble.


	6. Observation & A Little More Conversation

When Dwight left, he didn't even so much as glance at Susan. For that she was grateful; Dwight was a nice guy, but she didn't want to complicate things. No attachments, no commitments, no friends, no enemies. As of now, the only person she had to talk to was Negan, and he himself was already a handful. Negan, alongside Susan, watched Dwight leave. Once he was gone, Negan whipped around to face Susan.

Under his heavy gaze, Susan slightly shrunk back. With all that flirting and just whatever the hell that was with Dwight earlier, Susan still wondered if it was a test of both of their loyalties. She hadn't exactly been opposed to Negan's suggestions. Would he be upset with her for it?

For a long moment, Negan stared at her hard, bottom lips pulled tight into his mouth by his teeth. Susan was wilting, falling into a nervous mess. It was only her second day here. She can't screw this up yet. Her backpack was still sitting heavy on her back, a heavy guilt she had to hide from him. Briefly, she wondered if either the Savior Laura or the Savior David or even the Savior Gary came and told Negan about her and Dwight's little adventure trapezing about the Sanctuary. Suspicion from anyone – especially Negan – had to be avoided at all cost.

Eventually, Negan spoke, voice low and rumbling like ominous thunder. "Well, Susan, I got you pretty worked up, didn't I?" He simultaneously stepped into her personal space and leaned closer to her, his height an advantage for intimidation – and, of course, seduction. Despite everything she knew about him – from torturing Daryl, killing Daryl's people, burning Dwight's face, the way he ran the Sanctuary – Susan could care less about it all. At the end of the world they had all been forced to do things they didn't want to do in order to survive and protect others. Susan herself became a killer, and if Negan coped by living with it and sleeping peacefully, she couldn't begrudge him for it.

"Pussy got your tongue, Susan?" Negan's voice reminded her of his earlier question. "I thought that was supposed to be on me." Despite the joke, his face was still deadly serious, but Susan couldn't tell if it was out of anger or not.

"Um, earlier," Susan hesitatingly began, her words halting in her throat, "what you said about Dwight a-and … me." Nervously she swallowed, and her eyes flitted about helplessly to look everywhere but at Negan. "Were, were you serious?"

Once again, Negan buried his ungloved hand in her hair and tilted her head back. The motion, while not too forceful enough to hurt, forced her to look at him now. He took his other hand – the one wearing a leather glove – and grasped her chin, gently. It was an unusual sensation for Susan, feeling leather on her bare skin, one she didn't necessarily oppose. "Why do you ask, Susan? Were you interested in my ideas?"

By his firm touch, his heated look, and lowly spoken words, Susan was blushing, unsure of herself. "I," she wet her lips before continuing, "I was under the impression that you didn't share. I am your wife, after all, Negan." Lower under her breath she added, "One of your wives."

"That's right," Negan answered her quickly, voice cutting over hers with ease. "You belong to me. I provide for you. I meet all your needs."

Though he wasn't cursing at her, Susan was only more uncertain of his mood. Unmoving, helpless to do otherwise, Susan only agreed with him. "Yes," she admitted, eyes searching his face for some kind of sign of what he was thinking, what he was feeling, "I am yours, Negan, only yours."

In return his eyes searched her face, hungrily roving over her features. He swiped the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, and her mouth fell open for him, pliant. Negan gave her a closed-mouth smirk before he placed a hot, wet open-mouthed kiss on her own mouth. Immediately, she melted into his touch. It was still unknown whether or not she was to be punished for something, and she still felt that something might happen but curiously enough she was internally relaxed. Somehow Susan felt that she would be safe with him no matter what, though she didn't know why she felt that way.

Eventually, Negan pulled back and released his hold on her completely. He squinted his eyes at her, licking his lips in the aftermath of their passionate kiss, and then he finally broke out into his familiar smile. Any lingering doubts that Susan might have had dissipated as soon as he smiled, too. "Damn, Susan," Negan exclaimed, "I just knew there was something about you as soon as we found you out there in those woods." Tilting his head to one side and leaning back on his heels, Susan idly wondered how he could keep his balance when her own head was spinning after that kiss. "Yeah," he continued, "I like you a-fucking-fuckity-fuckton-lot."

Suddenly, he bent down, snatching up Lucille from where she had been resting against the railing. Susan had hardly noticed her, distracted by Negan too much. Entranced by Negan's fluid movements, as Susan watched him collect his baseball bat, she then remembered where they were. This was hardly the privacy of his bedroom. No, this was a landing overlooking the entire open factory floor. Any of the people down below could look up at any time and see how Negan had her like putty in the palm of his hand.

In a wave of dizziness and embarrassment, Susan reached out and grasped the railing hard in her hands, shifting her high-heel clad feet nervously. Looking out over them all, Susan wondered just how many saw their kiss or witnessed Negan openly teasing her in front of Dwight. The more she looked out at the workers below, though, the more Susan felt that none of these people had the strength to lift their heavy heads higher than they already were from their defensive, hunched shoulders. None of them would ever have the courage to raise their eyes. These people were cowed, miserable… broken. Just like Daryl will be. Just like Dwight fell in line. It took a lot of power to do that to so many, and for one heady moment, Susan felt like she had that power, too, standing by Negan's side up here on the landing. Then she looked at Negan, casually resting that deadly and barbed-wire covered bat against his shoulder, and she knew that she was only a few steps above the prisoners and the workers and the Saviors. Eventually, she will have to leave, too.

As soon as she looked back at Negan, their eyes met, and Negan smiled warmly at her again. "You need a fucking moment, Susan? I know I am a bit fucking much at times. Probably the best kisser and the best fucker you've ever met," he boasted proudly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Not wanting to inflate his ego bigger than it already was, Susan didn't comment any further on that. Instead she asked, "So, um," here, she blushed again, "are you busy for the rest of the day or can you, uh," she trailed off. Standing up a little straighter, she took a deep breath before continuing, "Will you end the night with me?" She remembered the dirty things he had been whispering to her earlier, and she couldn't deny that she was very interested in doing those things. That's why she was here, after all, for a fucking vacation in all senses of the phrase 'fucking vacation' of course.

"Susan," Negan began in a sing-songy voice, "are you fucking propositioning me?" He laughed before she could answer. "Well, lucky for fucking you, Susan, I get to do whatever the shit I want and right now I would like to screw your brains out." His tongue ran over his teeth before he smiled widely at her, shaking his head back and forth like he couldn't believe that Susan would want to have sex with him again. "Yeah, I would like to do exactly fucking that." Switching Lucille over to his other shoulder, he spun on his heel and began to walk back down to the factory floor. Over the shoulder than Lucille didn't rest on, he called back to her, "Let me just clear my fucking schedule and I'll fucking schedule you in for fucking. You stay right fucking there."

Obediently, and not sure of where else to go or what else to do, Susan waited where he told her to. That was another reason she had 'propositioned' him. Being a wife, she wasn't really allowed to do anything, and she was restricted mainly to the parlor. If she were to wander freely without an escort of some kind – like Dwight – she would most likely arouse suspicion. She didn't need that kind of attention. Besides that, it seemed like there was nothing fun to do, really, at the Sanctuary. Everyone had jobs they needed to do.

Of course, Susan would be lying to herself if she said that see was only sleeping with Negan out of boredom. No, he was right to boast because he was the best screw she has ever had. Despite being forcibly celibate so long due to the end of the world, now that Susan has already had sex once she was getting back into the swing of things. She wanted to sleep with him again.

Watching him slip into the crowds on the factory floor, Susan observed with growing interest how as Negan approached and past by people they fell on their knees, kneeling – even the Saviors. One of the Saviors didn't kneel as Negan approached, though, and Susan recognized him as Simon from before in the blue pick-up truck. Negan began talking to him, gesticulating wildly, and Susan quickly grew bored. It wasn't like she could hear what either of the men were saying.

Her eyes swept over the factory floor again, not focusing on anything in particular until she noticed something out of the ordinary. A younger looking man – hell, probably a teenager – had swiped something from a display table, quickly shoving it in his pockets. Susan hadn't been mistaken, she was sure he had just stolen something. Theft – even in the apocalypse – was a crime, especially within communities. She doubted that that kind of behavior would be tolerated here. Was it her place to say something though? The boy was obviously not a Savior, otherwise he wouldn't have had to be so sneaky about taking the fruit, and yes, Susan was sure it was a fruit. Maybe he was hungry, though, but Susan couldn't help but take note that the boy did not look starving either. Who says he stole it for himself, though? He might have a hungry younger sibling who relied on him. For that possibility alone, Susan forgot she ever saw him, and quickly looked away.

No good deed goes unpunished, though, because as soon as she looked away from him, her eyes were drawn to a familiar blonde in a black dress. Unescorted, Amber was walking confidently around the edge of the factory floor. Though she didn't have the sly qualities that the teenaged thief had, from Susan's viewpoint it seemed obvious that she was avoiding going close to where Negan was and that she was making an effort to stay out of the man's line of sight. Curious to see what kind of privileges Amber held as an unaccompanied wife, Susan watched Amber walk over to the lingerie storage room. Instead of that creepy Savior David guy being on guard, there wasn't anybody on guard. Amber glanced over her shoulder before she entered the room, closing the door behind her. Patiently, Susan waited for Amber to come out, but she never did. She was taking her time in there, browsing through the fancy clothes offered or perusing something else entirely.

Piecing it together in her mind, Susan supposed that it was either creepy David in that closet or that David was busy elsewhere. Guard duty for the lingerie closet hardly seemed important when there were other matters to attend to, like say, an orange situation – if she remembered that Savior Arat woman's words correctly. Maybe he was one of the saviors collected for the job with Dwight and no one replaced him on guard duty. Or more likely, they didn't have a guard at this time, which is why Amber would be able to know it was clear to come down. It was unlikely that Amber would've heard the radio call anyway. Thinking back to the gossip Tanya and Frankie told her, they had been implying that Amber was being unfaithful to Negan, that she was messing around with her old boyfriend Mark. Susan would bet every Jolly Rancher in her backpack that Amber was down there in the lingerie closet fucking Mark. The only reason Negan wouldn't know is because he hadn't been spending time with Amber because of Susan and before Susan, Sherry, the other recent addition to the harem.

Susan wasn't sure how she should feel like for that. Amber was the one choosing to play a very dangerous game, and it would only be a matter of time before Negan would find out. Hell, Susan had only been here for two days, and she all but found out. In the end, though, Susan didn't care if Amber got caught by Negan or not. Cheating on Negan is a pretty big and outrageously stupid mistake to make.

Of course, it was a double standard that Negan could have multiple wives, but his wives couldn't sleep around. He was the one in power, though, so he got to make the rules. Besides, it's not like he hid his wives from each other, and if he slept with a woman who wasn't a wife, Susan doubted that he was hide that. Negan would probably brag about that, too. Personally, Susan abhorred the idea of cheating, but at the end of the world she supposed that adultery couldn't be the worse sin. Besides, she doubted people really fell in love anymore when there were so few people left to find someone that truly special. If Amber and Mark are in love, it wouldn't matter anyway. Amber is technically Negan's 'wife' now.

No matter what it won't end well.

A hand on the small of her back nearly made Susan jump out of her skin. She flinched around, defensive, but as soon as she saw it was Negan imperceptibly relaxed in his presence. "Damn, Susan, why are you so jumpy?" Negan asked her, and for good reason, too. If she jolted any harder at his touch she might've fallen over the railing to the factory floor below. "I mean, I just come back up here to collect you for some good fucking, and I walk up these stairs to see a damn pretty sight of you staring off into the distance like some kind of fairy tale princess shit. You got my cock hard, and you're not even doing anything. Hell, you're wearing a fucking backpack, but damn if I don't think you look good enough to fuck right here and now. I just put my hand on you to slip my arms around your waist and carry you off fucking caveman style to my bedroom – and you damn near spin around like you're gonna punch me in the nose." Negan rambled to her, still smiling, though his eyes are serious, concerned. He inquired, "What the hell is keeping your attention? What the hell has you thinking so hard?"

Despite his flattering words, Susan was more concerned about not ratting Amber out. Susan caught herself before she looked back at the lingerie door. Though she didn't care if Amber continued cheating or not, Susan didn't want to be the one to drop the ball. That would cause waves for sure, and she'd rather not have to deal with Amber's ire if she found out that it was Susan who tattled on her. Apologetically, Susan stepped into Negan's embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle, and he was so slim that she felt like she could almost encircle him twice. "Sorry, Negan, I was just thinking about this place." Susan didn't think she should fully lie to him. "I've seen communities, but never one like this, and certainly never a group this large."

Clearly pleased with her words, Negan hummed, "Yeah, I run a pretty tight fucking ship. People are important. It's our job that we rebuild society. It's a brand new fucking world out there, and I take in these sorry shits and whip them into decent fucking shape. I keep people alive. It's a big fucking job, but someone has to do it. Someone has to call the fucking shots without being a hotshot themselves." Unexpectedly, he pressed a kissed into her hair, hugging her back. "But you don't have to worry about anything anymore, Susan. I got it all handled and under fucking control." He changed the subject, "In fact, how about I go fuck you so hard that you can't think about anything else except how fat my dick is and how good it feels buried balls fucking deep inside your pussy, huh?"

Glad for the change of topic, Susan heartily agreed by pushing herself up taller on her toes to catch Negan's mouth in a kiss. Looks like the heels were coming in handy. Yes, Susan would like very much for a healthy dose of Negan's dick to help her forget about all of her worries. Earlier all she wanted to do was devour her entire bag of Jolly Ranchers, but now all she wanted to do was devour him completely. If only she could dip him in some chocolate first… Suddenly, realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Wait, wait, Negan." She pushed back from him, putting space between him but leaving her hands on his hips, fingers looped through one of his belts.

Looking a little dazed from the ardent kiss, Negan groaned, disappointed that it stopped. "God, what the shit is it, Susan? You can't get so hot and cold with me like this, my blue balls won't fucking thank you. Is it because we're up here? Fuck, nobody is fucking looking at us, Susan."

Reminded again that they were publicly flaunting their relationship, Susan ducked her head, muttering under her breath, "Shit, fuck." She tugged at his shirt, urging him to move away from the landing with her to somewhere more private.

Understanding, Negan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away, back towards the administration levels of the factory where the wives' parlors were and Negan's own room. Once they were out of sight of everyone out on the factory floor, Negan stopped and released Susan's hand. Turning around to face her again, he carefully tapped Lucille against the side of his boot. "Okay, what the fuck is it, Susan? I don't think I can wait to fuck you again any longer."

"Um," Susan didn't know how to phrase this. It was a little embarrassing. "Well, uh." She coughed, nervous again. "I'm sorry. Please, promise me you won't be mad, I didn't mean to hide this from you."

"Spit the shit out, Susan, I don't have all day to wait until I can get my dick in you again." Negan impatiently interrupted. "I won't be fucking mad unless it's fucking bad, Susan, baby girl. I'm a fucking reasonable guy."

The pet name was what put Susan at ease more than anything. Feeling a bit better, she gathered all of her confidence and took a deep breath before she blurted out, "I start my period next week." Immediately, she flushed red with shame for the hundredth time today. "So, uh, if we keep fucking you can't come inside me. That and we need some kind of protection, you know, if you have that. If you have implants, I can't use them or I'll have a really bad allergic reaction." She quickly added, "I don't do anal either, so don't get any damn ideas of that. I've tried it and I don't like it." Looking up at him earnestly, she bit her lip and shrugged helplessly, apologetically. "I understand if you don't want to risk anything and you'd rather be with one of the other wives. It won't hurt my feelings. I know I probably should have told you when you picked me up or earlier when we were fucking. That was my mistake. I don't expect you to take any responsibility or anything either –"

"Jesus, Susan, shut the fuck up and let me get a word in before you go supposing otherwise," Negan interrupted sounding more than a little amused. "First of all, it's my fucking fault, too. I forgot to grab some of my condoms in my rush to fuck you right in the pussy. Also, I can't believe I fucking forgot to take you to our doctor. I guess when I met you with your fantastic fucking tits practically hanging out, I thought you looked healthy and dismissed. Mistake fucking number two for me." He shook his head, and shifted from foot to foot, still grinning despite everything.

Secretly, he was pleased that Susan was so easy-going for him. She didn't cause a fuss. Susan wasn't going to risk a pregnancy scare with him like Frankie had before. In fact, Susan was honest with him, upfront about her cycle. Susan was even willing enough to step aside and let him be with another wife when she would be too risky to fuck. All of that, though, made Negan want to fuck her more. By all means, Susan wasn't the prettiest wife. That was probably a tie between Amber and Michaela – maybe a tie between Michaela and Sherry if Sherry would chill the fuck out once in a while. Susan was attractive in her own way, though, and Negan would pick Susan a thousand times over any of the other wives if it meant he didn't have to deal with brattiness. Still, though, he could tell that Susan thought he was only here for the fucking, but that isn't entirely the case. Another bonus to having a bunch of wives waiting on him hand and foot extending to far more than getting his dick wet. Hell, one of the wives gave him back massages whenever he liked. He could talk to Michaela without having to worry about her blathering his secrets or attempting a coupe. Negan was just going to have to show Susan that she could be worth more than sex to him to, if he could just prove to her that he was a decent guy.

"But it's like a fucking said, Susan," Negan lectured her, "I will always fucking provide for you and the other girls. You're all my girls. You don't have to worry about anything or want for anything either. I fucking got you, baby girl." Twirling Lucille around in his hand, Negan broke out into a full smile once more. "So, fucking relax, and come on, now. It's time you saw Dr. Carson."

More than a little surprised, Susan went along with it as Negan once more took her by the hand and led her away to the Sanctuary's resident doctor. Negan's reiteration that he would take of Susan and the other wives. It was left unspoken, but implied that Negan's care would even extend towards children if something were to happen. That was really shocking considering a man with a harem who led a community would also be willing to take care and raise children, too, which was very possibly considering how many different women he was fucking. What was more so surprising was that he would be willing to risk conception with Susan just to have another chance to sleep with her so soon. To Negan's knowledge, it wasn't like Susan was going anywhere so soon. Was she really that good of a screw that he'd want to fuck her again so soon, even when they had to use condoms? Susan was definitely starting to feel flattered now.

On top of that, Susan was also more confused about Amber's cryptic behavior. Sherry's hatefulness Susan could understand completely. Negan burned her husband's face. But Amber didn't have such an excuse. Was Negan not enough for her or did she really love Mark that much? To Susan, if Amber really loved Mark, she wouldn't risk everything to endanger him that way. Surely, if Negan knew – when Negan finds out – Mark will be severely punished. He very well may be killed. It all seems so foolish, it just doesn't seem worth it.

As Susan was forced to pay attention to where they were going in order to build on her mental-map of the Sanctuary, she took the chance to look over her shoulder and catch the last glimpse of the open factory floor where they came. She repeated in her mind like a mantra: Just a matter of time, just a matter of time. A matter of time before Amber's dirty laundry was aired out to Negan. A matter of time before Susan was going to escape. And also – something else Susan left unaccounted for – a matter of time before Susan realized that she was developing romantic feelings for Negan just as much as he was feeling a similar kind of way towards her, too. Just a matter of time.


	7. Less Conversation & More Action

The trip to the doctor felt so mundane that Susan almost believed that the Dead never came back and the world itself was still normal. Dr. Carson poked and prodded at her, checking her health, and Susan actually had to try and remember her medical history. Dutifully she recited the normal stuff. O negative blood type, which made Dr. Carson hopeful for blood donations, though he warned her not to expect the same courtesy from others. The only surgery she's ever had was for her tonsils and wisdom teeth. She doesn't have a history of being sick. The first bone she broke was in the apocalypse in her wrist. Susan explained how birth control implants gave her a horrible allergic reaction, and in addition to that she was allergic to nuts.

Luckily, though, she didn't have an allergy to latex, so Dr. Carson gave Negan more condoms, avoiding eye-contact with the man as he did so. It was a little uncomfortable to have Negan there while Dr. Carson gave her an examination, but Negan didn't make any crude comments like she expected him, too, and he didn't get upset at anything Dr. Carson was doing. In fact, Susan felt more at ease that Negan, someone familiar that she trusted, was there with her.

The last thing Dr. Carson mentioned was that conception was still possible even if Negan did 'pull the fuck out' as he so eloquently put it. So, if her period was late, Susan should come back to do a pregnancy test. That was more than a little awkward and concerning, but despite the doctor's warning, Negan only rolled his eyes and caught Susan by the wrist, tugging her out the door.

As they made their way back to Negan's bedroom, he muttered to her under his breath, "Please, what are the fucking odds I knock you up after fucking you only once?" Apparently, Dr. Carson's words were not a deterrent for Negan. He was still just as eager to get into Susan's panties. She had to admire his tenacity to not let any of that kill his mood.

Once they stepped over the threshold to his bedroom, Negan slammed the door shut and locked it behind them. Then he set Lucille gently on the couch before shrugging off his black leather jacket and tossing it on the couch beside her. He tugged off his one black leather glove with his teeth while his other hand unbuckled his belt. The belt came off with a hiss through the beltloops, and both the belt and the glove were carelessly discarded alongside his jacket. Quickly, he unwrapped the bandage he kept around his wrist, a precaution to keep him from hurting himself while swinging Lucille around. The bandage was normally kept hidden under the long sleeves of his black leather jacket, so when he unrolled the bandage completely and chunked it at the trash, it went completely unnoticed by Susan. Slipping off his white shirt, Negan added that to the growing pile on the couch, too. His boots were toed off, and soon the rest of his clothes were also shed as well.

Meanwhile Susan also rushed to strip herself, both of them eager for each other. Her trusty, heavy backpack was tossed on the adjacent chair to the couch and she slipped out of her dress and lacy underwear, throwing them across her backpack, too. She was just slipping off her heels when Negan strode across the room and caught her in his grasp from behind. "Fucking gotcha, Susan."

Immediately, he wrapped her hair in his hand, pulling it out of the way so he could place whiskery kisses down her neck. His facial hair tickled, making her giggle, but the sinfulness of his mouth caused her giggles to dissolve into moans. "Leave the fucking heels on," he whispered in her ear between laving kisses on her pulse point. She did as he asked without question. His breath was hot and damp on the shell of her ear, and she broke out in shivers and soaked her panties accordingly.

"Take me now, Negan, please," Susan begged, reaching back behind her head and fisting his own hair in her hands. Instinctively, she grinded her rear into his blossoming erection she could feel behind her. Before she wouldn't have been able to do that, but now she was starting to see the advantage of having heels five inches high. Like a cliché, she was already weak in the knees, resorting to cautiously leaning her weight against him. Like him, she was fed up with all the delays and interruptions. She had to have him again, and she wanted to have him now, hard and fast.

Pleased with her wantonness, Negan hummed, and the vibrations reverberating through his chest thrummed pleasantly to her sternum from the chest to back contact. His chest hair and happy trail scratched against her bare skin from where they were pressed together, and still they both tried to get impossibly closer, this contact not enough for either of them. "Well, are you sure you've been a fucking good girl today, Susan?" Negan asked her and explained, "Only good girls get fucked in their pussy by Daddy's fat fucking dick."

As soon as she heard those magic words, Susan became even wetter than before, which she didn't think was possible. She remembered how envious she was of Dwight when Negan called him a good boy, and now she wanted to be a good girl. Additionally, she was surprised by herself by not being turned off by the whole 'daddy' thing.

Still, despite her arousal, she was a little confused by Negan's teasing. He was so impatient to fuck her just a few minutes ago, but now he was playing that game. Susan didn't understand. Dwight said she had behaved, and he hadn't been lying. Was Negan upset with her for something else? Why would he punish her when she hadn't done anything? "Yes, Daddy, I've been good today," she dutifully answered him. She wished she could see his face, but his face was buried where her neck met her shoulder as he marked her with hickies.

"I don't know, baby girl," Negan murmured into her skin. He nipped the sensitive flesh before soothing it with his tongue as he worked his way back up to her ear. There he whispered, "Seems to me like you were a little too fucking eager to fuck Dwighty boy back there." His other hand, which had been rubbing circles around her navel, dipping lower with every revolution, suddenly came up and slipped around her neck, not tight at all, but just resting there.

The old Susan would have immediately been put on edge, aware of the rising danger levels. This new Susan – the Susan who was Negan's wife and not a lone survivor – only felt her adrenaline levels rise out of excitement. She knew she was safe because she was loyal, far more loyal than the other wives like Amber and Sherry, though she wasn't in love with Negan. Susan wasn't going to lie and say she loved him either, she'd hardly think that that would help her case.

"No, no, Negan," he applied pressure to her throat and Susan realized her mistake, "Daddy, Daddy." The pressure lifted. "No, Daddy, I don't care about him. I want to fuck you, only you." Shamelessly, she was still pushing herself back into his erection, her thighs squeezed together tight as she sought to relieve the own pressure between her legs.

Unsurprisingly, Negan was grinding back against her. Though one hand was at her throat and the other hand held her in place by the firm grip he had on her hair, his mouth still sucked blooming purple bruises on her brown skin. She would have to use her hair to hide them if he would let her get away with that. That or she could avoid being seen by everyone if she just stayed in his bed for the rest of her life like she wanted, getting covered in more love-bites. It was a vicious cycle, but one she would gladly relive over and over again.

"You're damn right that you only fuck me because no one," he emphasized the word with a quick squeeze of her neck and a yank of her hair, "can ever fuck you as good as I do. No one has as fat as a fucking dick as me. No one knows how to get you as fucking wet and as fucking wild as I do just by tugging on your hair, baby girl." He did so, and his point was proved as Susan let loose a moan even louder than the last ones, her hands desperately scrabbling for purchase on his slick hair.

"No one knows just how to pet your fucking pussy like the lady you are," Negan lowly insinuated, voice rough and deep and yet soothing to her ear drums. Susan's eyes widened as Negan dropped his hand from her throat, skating his palm down her front until he cupped her sex. When he touched her there, she spread her legs for him wider, and from behind he shoved a leg between her own, kicking them apart more for him. His skillful fingers spread her lower lips and found her wet. Those same fingers liberally spread her wetness as he rubbed her and reached lower to dip his fingers inside, finding the source of all her wetness. All the while, he rhythmically tugged on her hair, her hair follicles screaming at the slight pain but her mouth moaning at the intense pleasure garnered from it. Negan teased her clit with feather-light touches that had her shaking with need. Then he pulled his hand back up in front of both of their faces.

Spreading his fingers, they both watched as her arousal threaded between the digits, sticky and dewy like raindrops on a spider web. "Fuck yeah, I can pet your fucking pussy and get you as wet as the Pacific." He brought the fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, humming appreciatively at the taste. "Fuck, I should say as wet as the Dead Sea with how salty you taste." His hand returned to the apex of her thighs where he continued to pet her pussy. "Don't worry, Susan. I know you're sweet where it fucking counts," he purred to her, placatingly, his sweet talk at odds with what he was doing between her legs.

Trembling from the good petting, Susan gasped, "Negan," tilting her head so far back that she rested it against his shoulder. Unconsciously, she straddled his leg between her own, alternating between bucking into his hand and humping against his thigh when she would grind backwards against his erection that nestled between the globes of her cheeks. "Daddy," she quickly corrected herself without any action from him. Susan practically whined, "Please stop teasing me, Daddy. Please, please, just fuck me already." She didn't used to dirty talk like this – or talk at all during sex – but Negan brought out the best in her, it seemed. "Just bend me the fuck over and take what you want from me. Fuck me like you own me. Prove that you own my pussy, Daddy. Please."

Incited by her challenge, Negan removed his hand from her and placed it still wet and glistening from her juices on the small of her back. "Well, since you asked me so fucking nicely, baby girl." Urging her forward, guiding her by the grip he had on her hair, he maneuvered her behind the couch where Lucille normally rested and where his clothes were piled up. He removed her hands from his hair, pinning both of her wrists behind her back before he bent her over at a perfect angle. She was practically hanging over the back of the couch and again he used his foot to kick her legs open wider. "Hell, you practically fucking begged me to do this, Susan," he growled. "I'm gonna brutally pound your fucking pussy until you're branded by my fat fucking dick."

"Yes, Daddy, fuck me good," Susan hissed, encouraging him further, not minded being manhandled at all. He wasn't unnecessarily rough, and he didn't shove her hard enough for her to stumble or be hurt. She trusted him. It surprised her, but she did trust him.

"That's right, baby girl," Negan chuckled at her. He looked down and admired the pretty sight she made like this, ass up and thighs glistening, spread wide enough so he could have a peep at the promise land of pussy covered in damp, dark pubic hair. Stepping up close behind her, he started to rut against her, wetting his dick between her pussy lips without actually penetrating her, still driving them both wild, prolonging the inevitable.

Her brown skin was soft, pliant to his touch, and her hair was silken in the palm of his hand as he pulled it tight. His only regret for this position was that he wouldn't be able to see her face contort in pleasure as he fucked her hard, and he wouldn't be able to play with her titties either. Negan had liked doing that last time. It was one of his favorite parts about sex to watch everything bounce and jiggle on a woman from the force of his movements. That came second only to feeling velvety pussy around his cock.

Deciding that this was enough foreplay for the both of them since he felt like he was about to blow his load everywhere and Susan's moans had dwindled down to pitiful whimpers, Negan pulled back a bit. "Okay, Susan, be a good girl and grab a fucking condom for me from my jacket pocket before I fucking bust all over this fucking couch and your fucking back."

Eager to please and be a good girl, Susan ripped her hands out of his grip and grabbed his jacket. She rummaged through his pockets before she found one of the precious condoms. Only then did her movements slow, becoming more careful as she gently ripped it open, avoiding ripping the condom itself. Removing it from the package, she blindly reached backwards to pass it back to him, her neck movement limited by the grip he maintained on her hair.

Accepting it gratefully with his free hand, Negan slipped it on over his dick with practiced ease. "Fucking thanks, Susan." His free hand smacked her rear, and he watched it ripple with glee. Of course, Susan moaned in correspondence and her pussy pulsed, gushing in preparation. Her back arched as she presented herself to him more, eagerly awaiting him to finally fuck her like they both desperately wanted.

Chuckling at her movements, he dropped his free hand down and gripped her meaty hip, fingers digging into the ample flesh as he held her in place like her wanted. He adjusted the grip he had on her hair until he was grasping it by the roots, forcing her head down so that her ass would be lifted up higher for him. "Now for the fucking," Negan said, and then plunged inside of her pussy to the hilt, the head of his cock slamming into her cervix almost painfully.

The position would have never worked without the heels adding the extra and much needed height. Negan slammed into her hard, unforgiving, everything Susan asked for and needed. His hands held her in place, keeping her from wriggled around too much in the throes of her pleasure. She kept trying to throw her head back as she practically screamed his name like a prayer to heaven, "Negan! Negan, Negan, Negan! Daddy, oh Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, yes, yes, Daddy! Negan! Daddy! Oh, God, Negan!" Susan wasn't quite sure which name to use so she yelled them both in her passion. She kept trying to curve her spine, too, so he could hit it deeper where she wanted, but Negan kept a firm grip.

His fingers he had digging into her scalp massaged her bruised hair follicles while the fingers of his other hand pinched and pulled at her so much that he'd probably end up leaving bruises there, too. But she didn't care when he filled her so completely, his cock feeling so good even if it was covered in latex. Some part of her did miss the silkiness his uncovered cock had before, but his movements were too good for her to be regretful for long.

At a loss for what to do with her hands since she couldn't reach back and yank his hair like she wanted, Susan resorted to scrambling them around in his clothes. None of that was the texture that she desired, though, and it frustrated her to no end. She was also frustrated in a similar fashion to Negan. Susan wanted to watch his face, and instead she was teased but what he could look like judging by the harsh grunts, groans, and growls he made above and behind her as he kept steadily thrusting.

All she had to look at was Lucille. The baseball bat had been knocked over sometime when Susan had been looking for the condoms. Now the deadly bat was on her side, barbed-wire covering shiny and gleaming. Facing Lucille, Susan didn't want to think about her namesake, guessing the real Lucille was probably a real knock-out much like the bat itself, though of course in a much different way. Susan didn't want to think about how many brains and heads Negan has bashed in using Lucille either.

Luckily, Susan didn't think about anything since Negan was fucking her so good and hard. In fact, Susan was barely registering that it was Lucille in front of her, which is why she reached out and grasped her handle tight in one fist, desperate for some kind of anchor to keep her grounded while Negan mercilessly pounded her pussy.

The reassuring weight of Lucille kept Susan from letting her go, the wood smooth in her grasp and warming up in her grip. Her other hand still searched for something to grab, though, and despite Negan's best attempts to truly screw her brains out, Susan wasn't stupid enough to grab Lucille's barbed wire. Instead, Susan made do when she found Negan's belt. Unthinkingly, she lifted it to her mouth and clamped her jaws around it hard, teeth sinking into the leather and imprinting on it. It muffled her moans to needy grunts, groans, and growls much like Negan was making.

Unable to see what Susan was doing, Negan had to judge how close she was by sound alone. Judging from those new sounds, Negan figured she was close and quickly changed his tactics. He shifted his hips, hitting her at a new angle now right on her g-spot, and he was immediately gratified by how her pussy was spasming around him wildly now. Negan was riding her hard, and she was bucking beneath him, nearly out of control if it weren't for the hard grip he was keeping on her to keep her steady enough to fuck harder.

Like her, he was getting close, too, muttering curses under his breath that were steadily getting louder. "Shit, shit, shit. Oh fuck. Oh my God, God damn, honey! Damn it, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. So fucking wet and so fucking soft and so fucking tight. So fucking hot. Fucking beautiful. Susan! God, I don't ever wanna stop fucking you. I fuck you so good, don't I? Say my damn name, baby girl! Fuck yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh shit. Fucking! Fuckity fucking fuck! Fuckity fuck! Fuck!" Soon his cursing was louder than Susan's sounds and the harsh, wet slap of skin against skin.

Suddenly, he slipped his hand down between her legs where he fiercely rubbed at her clit. "Fucking come for me all over my fat fucking dick, baby girl!" Negan yanked her hair hard, encouraging her further, pulling her head so far back that he lifted her off the couch, her back bowing.

On command, Susan came beautifully, her orgasming powerfully ripping through her, lighting every nerve ending on fire. She saw white, toes curling in her heels. During her climax, she keened his name around the belt in her mouth, "Negan!"

Through her peak, Negan kept fucking her, trying to ride it out. Now that she was contorted in such a way though, he could finally see what she was doing. The peek of his belt in her mouth and seeing how she held Lucille in a white-knuckled grip triggered his orgasm more than her own did. "Fuck, Susan!" Then he came. It was a good thing they were using a condom this time, because unlike last time he wouldn't have been able to pull out in time to come on her back.

In the afterglow of their orgasms, Susan collapsed on the couch, her grip on everything going lax. She let go of Lucille, and Susan's jaw dropped open, aching slightly from biting so hard. The belt fell out of her mouth, permanently marked by her teeth now, and just a little wet. Susan was in a similar condition. Her neck was covered in Negan's bitemarks, mottled purple like a spotted cat. Instead of being just a little wet, she was soaked, and her climax was dripping sticky down her thighs nearly to her knees now. In addition to being so slick with arousal, she was a hot, sweaty mess. Negan's couch would need cleaning after this, no doubt.

Behind her, Negan had fallen forward, gently resting his weight on her and pinning her to the couch. Like her, he had let go of everything, his arms falling down by his sides, useless. He pressed his forehead against her spine, breathing heavily and his breaths puffing more moisture on her back. It was hard for them both to still be standing, but they managed it by throwing most of their weight on the couch. His dick was rapidly softening inside of her, the condom he filled with his come growing uncomfortable to wear just as fast. "Good girl," he managed to gasp to Susan appreciatively, and he reached one hand up and petted her hair before it fell down to his side again.

Deeply satisfied by the orgasm and rewarded by the compliment, Susan hummed happily. She turned her head to one side, seeing his immaculately made bed. Once again, they hadn't even made it to his bed before they started fucking each other. Maybe he had a rule about lovemaking in his bed. Oh well. There was always next time, and there will be a next time.

"Damn," Negan began, breaking into Susan's musings. "You're a dirty girl to grab my other dirty girl like that."

"Hm?" Susan was confused by his words, her brains partially fucked out by Negan after an orgasm like that. "What are you talking about, Negan?"

"I saw you had grabbed ahold of Lucille," Negan explained to Susan. "How did you know Lucille likes to watch and participate?" he asked, partially teasing her.

"Oh," Susan simply said, understanding dawning on her. "I didn't. I'm sorry if that upset you. I just needed something to grab, and I couldn't reach you."

"Fuck, Susan, I told you that you got to quit apologizing. You got nothing to be sorry for at fucking all," Negan softly rebuked her. It was an unusual experience for him to meet a woman who constantly apologized even when she didn't do anything wrong. Normally, he was used to fighting to get an apology as he always seemed to be the one to blame. It was somewhat nice to have someone so willing to say sorry, definitely a foreign experience for him. Still, it was sort of getting annoying as the novelty of it wore off. He was going to have to teach Susan some self-respect and self-confidence, since she didn't seem to have much of either unless he was balls deep in her. Despite his wishes, he couldn't always have his dick buried in her. Negan knew she was strong-willed, but she wasn't stubborn like the others. Susan just lacked the belief that she was beautiful. She knew she was a capable, strong, and skilled individual otherwise.

Shaking his head, Negan continued, "Don't think I didn't see you chomping down on my belt either. And before you dare apologize, it's fucking fine. It's just a damn belt. I can always get a-fucking-nother one if you damaged it that fucking badly, but I sincerely doubt it."

Susan squirmed, fighting the urge to apologize to him.

There was a lapse of silence. And then, "If I knew you were that fucking interested in using the damn belt, I coulda used it on you in a much more fucking pleasurable way, baby girl. You're so dirty and kinky and I fucking love it." Negan was outright teasing her now, and despite his dick being soft inside her, he meaningfully shifted his hips against her.

They were both too tired and overstimulated for that to spur a second round so soon, so instead Susan just sighed, "Negan." At that, Negan carefully pulled out, slipping out of her and reaching down to grab his dick so the condom wouldn't fall off and spill all over the floor and on their feet where they stood. Still, Susan couldn't deny that while she wasn't up for a repeat right now, she wouldn't be opposed to fucking again after a small break.

"Fuck," Negan spoke up again, "We have to fucking fuck again sometime today soon."

Her hopes confirmed, Susan didn't even bother to hide her smile. "Shower first?" She felt yucky, and soon her muscles would be sore and protesting after fucking in that position for so long.

"Fuck, yes, that sounds nice," Negan amicably agreed, also feeling a little too sweaty and smelly, too. He had hopes for other things in the shower as well besides just cleaning up. They could both stand to get a little dirtier before they were both squeaky clean and fresh again.

"Then dinner after?" Susan asked, knowing after a good fucking like this that she was going to be starving soon enough.

"Fuck, okay, but only if we have shower sex, too," Negan hedged, only halfway teasing, laying all his cards on the table.

Luckily – and unsurprisingly of course – Susan didn't need much convincing. "Deal, Negan."

Negan laughed, his smile so wide it hurt, though Susan couldn't see it. "I knew you'd see things my fucking way, Susan, baby girl."

Underneath him, Susan didn't deign to comment, but she shivered appreciatively at the pet name. And Negan's smile only grew bigger. Oh, yes, there was definitely going to be a next time. And a time after that, and a time after that, and after that, and after that. Susan was officially Negan's new favorite wife, and he didn't intend to get another wife to add to the collection any time soon or fuck any other wife than Susan for a good while yet.

Little did Negan know that soon enough Susan would leave him.


	8. Wash My Back&I'll Watch Yours-Sex&Candy

Eventually, after dragging his lips and scratching his beard over the slick skin of Susan's back in a lazy kiss, Negan sat back off of her, tying a knot in the condom. He chunked it at the trashcan, a little carelessly, and it plopped in with wet sound in accompaniment.

"Wow," Susan muttered as she pushed herself off the back of the couch, she wobbled in place, trying to regain feeling in her legs and balance on her precariously tall heels. It was true that without the heels, that sex position would have never worked. Flicking her hair out of her face, she caught Negan's eye as she continued in a flat sort of voice, "You play basketball in high school or something? You're certainly tall enough." Her legs were still shaking, and she cupped herself, covering her breasts and wrapping her arms around her torso much in the same way as when he first found her.

Watching her wobbly movements, and noticing it particularly in her thighs that still dripped from her orgasms, Negan made a high noise of appreciation in the back of his throat. He dragged his eyes all over her, reaching out and catching her wrists in his hands as he gently pulled her arms away. It was amazing to him how they could fuck so dirty like that and she was still shy around him. Instead of commenting on it, he answered, "Fuck, I played basketball all the way up through college. Went to school on scholarship for it and woulda gone professional, too, if I hadn't had a knee injury." Sticking his tongue between his teeth, he tugged her closer to him as he smiled at her. "Thanks, though, I know I got athletic skills. You definitely appreciate them, don't ya, Susan?" Without giving her time to answer, he dipped down and kissed her, something he missed while they were fucking.

Wrapped up in kissing him back, she took her arms from him, throwing them around his neck, and closed the space between them. She took a misstep, though, and ended up falling against him. Pulling back, she ducked her head, annoyed. "Shit, I'm sorry. It's these ridiculous, stupid shoes."

"Well, you can take them off now," Negan held her up as she carefully reached down and started yanking a heel off. "But motherfuck, weren't they just a-fucking-mazingly useful, huh? Keeps me from getting a crick in my damn neck trying to steal kisses from you all the time."

"It's not really stealing if I want you to kiss me all the time," she hummed. Leaning back against the couch, Susan quickly pulled the shoes off and set them aside on the couch, near his clothes but careful to not set them on his clothes. Looking back at him, she bit her lip, wondering if she should push her luck and ask for her old boots back. Those were vital for her escape. "Um, Negan?"

"Mhm?" Negan tilted his head at her, stepping forward until he had her pressed against the couch, his hands on either side of her and effectively trapping her in place. He enjoyed looking her all over while she was still bared for him like this.

Meanwhile, Susan avoiding looking at anything other than his eyes, still a little nervous despite having slept with him twice already. When she wasn't out of her mind with lust, it was difficult for her not to be intimidated by the man if only a little bit. He just had that effect on people. "Uh," she hedged, blushing at his closeness. Turning her head to the side, she felt his warm breath fan across her cheek, and a few wisps of her hair tickled around her ear. "Can I, er, uh, may I have my boots back?" Quickly, she added, "I'll wear the heels for you all the time, but when you're with another wife or busy or something I'd like to wear my boots. They're comfortable."

"Wouldn't being barefoot, then, Susan, be more comfortable?" Negan asked her, tone even.

The lack of curse words but Susan a bit on edge, though, so she continued carefully, "There's no carpet flooring, so it can get a bit much on my feet. But also, I want them because what if…" She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her excuse.

"No, no, go on. What if what, Susan?"

Gathering her courage, she looked up at him. His eyes were dark, serious, but she could hardly back out now. "What if something happens and I need practical footwear?" she asked in a small voice, and then immediately dropped her eyes to his chest where – beneath his thick and black chest hair – there was a tattoo of a skull and bones. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it sooner, but chalked it up to how she really hadn't had her eyes open around him much when they were both naked. That can be blamed on how he drives her out of her mind with pleasure

"You mean what if one of those Dead-Alives get in here and you need to crush a skull under a reliable heel? Or if – God forbid – the Sanctuary falls and we're overrun with raiders and hordes of those Dead-Alives." Negan said as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Taking a deep breath that filled her lungs, she pushed out a single word with it, "Yes."

"I can fucking assure you that that won't fucking happen. Not on my damn watch, or Simon's damn watch, or Dwight's or Arat's or any of the fuckers down there. We've got these fucking walls, we got the fucking numbers. Plenty of God damn weapons, food, and medicine. We can prevent any kind of nasty ass disease and we handle any possible fucking threats before they ever fucking happen. We've got all this shit covered, and before any shit starts we shut that shit down." He was getting steadily louder and more passionate, but if he was angry, it clearly wasn't directed at her.

Reassured by his cursing, Susan relaxed again. Unthinkingly, she brought her hand up and traced it over the tattoo, sighing, "I don't know. I've seen communities fall before, and there's always a way for everything to just go to shit, just when you start feeling comfortable." Realizing, what she was doing, she pulled her hand away and dropped it back down.

Not bothered by her actions so much as he was by her words, Negan tucked his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up so she would look at him. "Fuck, Susan, you have seen some shit, haven't you? Damn." His eyes flickered back and forth between hers, obviously seeing something there that she didn't have to vocalize. He wondered just how long she had been out there on her own, how long she had been alone. Negan also thought of his own experiences out in the world, too, soon after the end. Pushing those thoughts away, he promised her, "Well, shit won't hit the fan here like you've no doubt seen before. This place is the fucking Sanctuary for a damn reason. Not just a pretty word."

Searching his face, Susan saw so much conviction there that she knew arguing would be pointless. Besides, she knew this community was better established that the ones she had frequented before. Still, she never wanted to let her hopes get up. For all her pragmatic nature, though, when she saw that stubborn spark in his eye, she couldn't help but admire the strength of his beliefs. He was so optimistic and just pulsed with vitality. She couldn't relate and was envious all the same. Shrugging, she reminded him of why they were having this conversation to begin with, "I would still like my boots back."

Tilting his head to the other side, Negan carefully searched her face. Susan was less scared now and more relaxed. This was progress. He wanted her to be comfortable around him more than just when they were having sex. "Well, I'm pretty sure I had Fat Joey deliver those nasty ass boots to the commissary after they were cleaned. They may already be fucking sold to someone." He tilted his head to the other side as he continued, "Would you be fucking comfortable taking the boots back, Susan?"

"You can give them their points back, too, can't you? Due compensation?" She inquired earnestly, believing in his abilities.

Negan rocked back on his heels, dramatically rolling his eyes and puffing out a breath. "That's a lotta damn work. Lotta fucking paperwork to go through at the commissary to make sure the points are refunded," He overexaggerated deliberately.

Thinking hard, Susan wasn't sure what else to say. She needed those boots if she was going to leave and be able to put a lot of distance between herself and the Sanctuary. "What if I give them some food in exchange for the boots?"

"That would be fucking fair." Negan agreed, a little curious, "What food?"

Glancing over her shoulder at her backpack, Susan squeezed out of his grasp, brushing against him as she went. He watched her go, wondering why he was giving her a hard time. If any of his wives wanted anything, they'd ask, usually while bribing him with a blowjob. He'd either say yes and they'd thank him handsomely… or he'd say no and they'd whine, throw a fit, pout, and ignore him, faking a headache. Negan wanted to tell Susan no, but she wasn't just trying to coax him into doing what she wanted. She was making a deal, and Negan was glad for a wife that wasn't so spoiled and childish. Who knows, she may change with time once she sees what the others do, but now he was enjoying the challenge she offered.

At her backpack, Susan paused, considering. He might find what she took suspicious; he might immediately see through her. Defensively, she hunched over her backpack, using her size to block his view. Once she unzipped the backpack, the first thing she saw lying on top was the yellow negligee. Oh yeah, she'd gotten this to wear for him. Still wanting to surprise him with it, she pushed it under her other clothes. She'd throw that on after her shower.

Underneath her clothes were the snacks, and she quickly decided that she wasn't going to give up the drinks. Those were non-negotiable for when she'd leave. But, Susan would be willing to part with her popcorn and chips…and the Jolly Ranchers. Would that be fair for a pair of old boots, though?

"What you got there, Susan? Oh, holy fuck!" Immediately, Susan whipped around, clutching her chips in her hand and trying to shield her backpack from him. Luckily for her, Negan didn't care about anything other than the Jolly Ranchers, which he immediately snatched away and stared at, wide-eyed in disbelief. "Shiiiiit. I thought these little babies were extinct. Damn, I really need to take more time off. I don't even know half the shit I have here 'cause I work so fucking much."

Susan found herself smiling. It was amazing how something so trivial as candy could get people so excited at the end of the world. The happy look on Negan's face was so contagious, and Susan was glad to bear witness to his dimples and smile once more. "When Dwight took me to the commissary, I asked to see the snack closet. I saw those and I knew I had to have them, but if you want them so much, you can have them. After all, you do so much here, you deserve them. They're yours."

Negan pinched his tongue between his teeth without breaking his smile, careful not to accidentally bite his tongue. When Susan started speaking to him, he looked up from the bag of candy with that same smile, his impish pink tongue still peeping between his teeth. He slid it over his top teeth and then his bottom lip, thinking hard. "Funny, Susan, I felt the same damn way about you." At her look of confusion, Negan expounded, "As soon as I fucking saw you out there in those woods – no fucking shirt on, cute as a bug wrapped in a goddamned rug, fucking threatening me with Lucille – I knew I had to have you." Reaching out to her, he tucked her hair behind her ears, a look of fondness on his face. "Now that I've had you, Susan, I know I'm never going to let you go, baby girl."

It was with a tremendous amount of effort that Susan's face didn't reflect all the emotions she felt. Flattery, pride, embarrassment, attraction, fear, affection, worry. The first thing she felt – and the first emotion she showed – was her flattery and pride. This man thought she was a catch, and in his own way put her on par with a bag of Jolly Ranchers. Susan didn't mind being a sweet treat for him. When he mentioned finding her without a shirt and holding his precious bat, she flushed a bit, bashful. Of course, she had made quite the first impression that kind of way.

All of this culminated to her acknowledging that while he was so devastatingly handsome and criminally good-looking, she found his little quirks so far 'cute as a bug wrapped in a goddamned rug' as he so eloquently put it. Susan felt her cheeks bloom with heat, a blush that fueled by equal parts lust as it was by those more dangerous feelings of genuine affection. The heat spread all throughout her bottom, tight in her gut and wrapping around her heart, sinking in the lethal fangs of a crush that Susan tried so desperately to ignore. As of now, she was continuing to ignore them, but it was fighting hard for her acknowledgement.

The crush was easily pushed aside when a spike of anxiety shot through her heart, making it stutter from adrenaline. All because Negan had to go on and basically confess that he wasn't going to grow bored of her. Susan had been under the impression that Negan would be angry that she left, but would let her go and die out in the world. Besides, Susan hardly planned on taking much, and what she would take wouldn't be worth the trouble of sending people after her. She should have known, though, that Negan was the damn jealous type. He would be furious when she left and he wouldn't let her go so easily. He'd definitely try and find her.

If that were the case, then how was Susan going to escape now? Would it be too risky to try and remain aloof, to piss him off some way so that he could go to another wife? This wasn't part of the plan she initially conceived. She hadn't planned on tricking him into caring about her, and she certainly hadn't planned on going so far as to care about him –

And there it was. What she was so afraid to admit to herself was clamoring to burst out of her chest now. She'd let herself get attached to him. For all her belief that this was just sex, she knew it was more if only because she allowed herself to admire his leadership. Susan had allowed herself to get swept away by his romantic gestures of food and luxuries and compliments. Now she'd even gone so far to think how adorable it was to have him gush over a stupid bag of candy – and then willingly give it to him even though she wanted it for herself or for trade. This was too much, too soon, but after so long of keeping to herself Susan had grown desperate to connect and care for someone.

More than that, though, she knew that she wanted to connect to Negan, to please him more than just sexually. It wasn't because she felt like she owed him, but because, well, seeing him happy made her feel good. She could trust him to handle himself and it was a tremendous weight off her shoulders. Susan could trust him to take care of her, too. After so long of fighting to survive, Susan was ready to surrender herself to a protector. She'd watch his back, if he'd watch hers.

While Susan struggled silently with her internal dilemma, Negan was blissfully unaware as he struggled to open the bag of Jolly Ranchers. They were sealed tight, perfectly preserved, and Negan was having a little trouble. Eventually, out of frustration, Negan resorted to tearing the bag with his teeth, the sound jarring Susan out of her thoughts. With manic glee, Negan rummaged through the bag to find one flavor in particular he wanted.

Meanwhile, he excitedly babbled to her, "You know what, Susan, thank you for saying that I deserve these. I'm sure by now you've heard the whole song and fucking dance around here that everything belongs to me – even the fucking people. But despite such fucking perks as those, those fuckers don't even know just how hard it is to keep this ship running tight." He seemed genuinely touched that she gave the candy to him. "I'm the one that makes shit happen, and it can be fucking stressful as fuck. No matter what I do for those sorry shits, I never get a fucking 'Thank you, Negan!' or even a fucking eye-contactless hand job without me having to pitch a fucking fit to remind them of all the sacrifices I've made.

"Aha!" Finally, he enclosed his fingers around a blue one. Gleefully, he unwrapped it. Before he popped it in his mouth, though, he paused and made a point of looking Susan directly in the eye before continuing on to say, "Susan, Susan. Fucking thank you for thanking me." Rather than immediately popping it in his mouth, he reached to grab another Jolly Rancher.

"Hell, baby girl, you've been here for what, two days? And you've impressed in the hell out of me. Got me wrapped around your fucking fingers. And it's not just because of your amazing pussy, Susan. Trust me. You're just …" He searched for a fitting phrase while he searched for another Jolly Rancher. "A breath of fresh fucking air. I fucking like you, baby girl." With that, Negan grabbed one of the red Jolly Ranchers. He unwrapped it, too, and offered both the red and the blue one to her.

Cherry was actually one of Susan's favorites. For some, cherry flavoring may remind them of cough syrup, but Susan always thought of ice cream and tying knots in a cherry stem using her tongue. Looking back up at Negan coyly from underneath her eyelashes, she found that she wouldn't mind recreating that kind of memory with him. Quickly, though, she shook those thoughts out of her head, focusing on the here and now.

"You ever see the Matrix, Susan? Fucking kick ass movie. Real fucking neato. Just the first one, not the entire trilogy. The last two were shit. But there's like this cool fucking scene at the beginning where Keanu Reeves has to decide between a red pill and a blue pill. The blue one wouldn't advance the plot, he'd continue to be fucking normal, just a sheep, a cog in the damn machine, what the fuck ever. But the red fucker, that's what would cause a bunch of trippy ass shit. Of course, he fucking chose the red one, because otherwise we wouldn't have had that amazing fucking movie. It had to be a hard pill to swallow, to wake up and realize you're at the end of the world, but swallow it he most certainly fucking did. It was some cool ass shit," Negan rambled to her, babbling without any set point in mind. "Yeah, that was real fucking cool. But I'm not making you an offer like that. It's just this reminded me of the movie." He shrugged, rolling his eyes at himself. "So fucking pick one, Susan, it won't hurt my feelings which damn one. I like both flavors."

At that, Susan laughed, and it was genuine, long and loud until her eyes watered and spilled over with tears of mirth. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. It wasn't even that funny, but it just felt so normal and surprisingly geeky from him. Again, she was struck by how cute he was, and quickly she smothered her crush. With a pleased grin, Negan giggled along with her, and once Susan calmed down enough to breathe, she sighed happily, "Gimme the cherry one." Opening her mouth, she let Negan tease it around her lips before he passed it over. The tartness, the sugary fruity flavor flooded Susan's taste buds and her mouth watered. It was sweet, as sweet as kissing Negan, and she wanted to mix the flavors, to have a taste of his blue raspberry as he cheekily sucked it into his mouth.

Just as Susan was going to tilt her head up to do just that, she was struck by the thought that from now on – everything was to be instigated by him now. If she wanted to leave successfully without breaking both his heart and hers, she'd have to stop whatever this was.

That in mind, Susan pushed the candy into her cheek, and carefully mumbled around it. "I was going to trade the Jolly Ranchers and the rest of these snacks for my old boots back." She hefted the bag of chips and popcorn higher in her arms for emphasis of her next point. "Do you think just this would be due compensation?" Ducking her head to avoid his hazel gaze, Susan needlessly studied the snacks. It didn't hurt to part with them. If these luxuries were the price of her freedom, it was worth it. Still, the words tasted like ash in her mouth in comparison to the candy as she spoke. Already, it was getting hard for Susan to imagine leaving.

Balling up the crinkling wrappers in his fist, Negan looked Susan over. He liked to think that he was perceptive, that he could read people fairly well. As he eyed the snacks and snuck a glance at how much Susan's old, purple backpack bulged with other stuff, Negan had a sneaking suspicion on why she had all this and more. "Susan, are you planning on being back out there again so fucking soon?"

Her head snapped up so fast she could've given herself whiplash. Eyes wide, Susan gaped like a fish and he could see the red stain of the candy on her pink tongue. Negan was dying to kiss her, but he understood how serious this matter was.

"I'm not fucking stupid, baby girl. Food, boots, the way you look around here in dis-fucking-belief. You don't think this place can last, even though I've fucking told you otherwise. And I just fucking told you otherwise," Negan accused her confidently. "Shit, Susan, when's the last time you've felt safe before coming here?"

So, Negan thought this was in preparation for an emergency escape rather than an actual escape itself. Susan's secret was still safe for now. Still, she was going to have to play this carefully. If she were to give the logical answer, it would have been three months ago when she was safe inside the walls of the Kingdom, mooching off their fresh garden. However, the honest answer would be the last time Susan had made genuine friends. Now they're all dead, have been for some time. Even residing in other communities, that never made her feel safe. Here, under Negan's protection, with the special privilege of being a wife, Susan did feel safe. But there's no way this could last. This was temporary, this was temporary – she'd tried to convince herself that.

"I, I don't know," Susan lied to him seamlessly, "I can't remember when."

Shaking his head at her, Negan implored her, "Susan, I fucking get it. You've got that survivor's instinct. It's hard to let it go. Hell, if you weren't already my wife I'd recommend you to be a Savior so that you'd never lose that killer fucking edge. But, baby girl, trust me. I can protect all of you. I will fucking protect all of you. You've been starving out there? You've been cold out there, dirty out there, alone out there. Not any-fucking-more, you're not. You don't have to fucking horde food, I'll keep you fed. Keep you warm, keep you clean, keep you satisfied. I'll do more than fucking keep you alive, I'll keep you fucking happy. Happy, Susan, with me. You're my wife. You can fucking love it here if you just let yourself enjoy it. What do I have to fucking do to convince you this?"

Listening to him, staring up into his beseeching hazel eyes, Susan found tears forming in her own brown ones, these softer than her previous tears. They were neither sorrowful or mirthful, just evoked by him somehow, and so tender. God, how she wanting to believe him, but again, she couldn't. They just had this conversation, but nothing's changed, even if she did admittedly like him, Susan just couldn't stay. "I just want my boots back, Negan. May I have my boots back?"

With a dramatic sigh, Negan leaned backwards on his heels, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling. As he dropped his head back down, he passed his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. He finished if off by scraping his hand through his facial hair – "Gotta fucking shave this shit," – and then he finally broke and gave into her. "Fucking fine, Susan, shit," Negan acquiesced. "You can have your goddamned boots back. Keep your fucking snacks, too, I'll handle the point shit."

Not believing her luck, Susan quickly shoved her chips and popcorn back in her backpack before she hugged Negan tight. "Thank you so much!"

The hug he gave her back was tight, but lazy and one-armed since the other hand clutched wrappers in his fist and precariously balanced the bag of candy tucked in his elbow. "Shit, Susan, it's nothing. I said I'd provide for you and make you happy – because I'm your fucking husband and I fucking care. This is my way of doing just fucking that. If a pair of shitty boots really give you that kind of peace of mind, then hell, you get them. They were fucking yours to begin with anyway."

Eventually, Susan shyly pulled away from the hug, and switched the candy in her mouth to the other cheek. Negan was obviously chewing on his, too impatient to simple suck it and prolong the flavor. Susan could hardly blame him. "You ready for that shower now, Negan?" She shifted, a little uncomfortable. The fluid rapidly drying at the apex of her thighs made her legs stick together.

"Shit, yeah, Susan. You don't have to fucking ask me twice." With that Negan set the bag of Jolly Ranchers down on the couch beside her backpack, leaving the wrappers with it. Then he unexpectedly picked her up bridal style, making her squeal and wrap her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. They both were lucky she didn't choke on her Jolly Rancher.

Negan made short work of carrying her across the threshold of the bathroom and stepping into the shower with her carefully. There he set her down and turned on the water – the spray cold as ice. "Oh, holy fucking goddamn!" Negan hollered, laughing at the end as he rapidly turned the knob to adjust the heat to be a little warmer.

Again, Susan squealed, this time from the water, and she hid behind Negan. "Fuck!" She shrieked, and then like him she was laughing. "Negan, what the hell?"

"I fucking forgot, sheesh," Negan sat up, his height shielding Susan from the spray. He turned to face her, and shrugged, teeth chattering a bit. "That sure cooled my fucking ardor. I'm embarrassed as hell."

"Aw, are you shivering, Negan? You're too thin." Already forgetting herself, Susan cuddled up to him. Unsurprisingly, he didn't look like a drown rat when he was soaking wet; instead he was all the more appealing.

He only chuckled, and reached past her for the shampoo. "Come here now, Susan. Lemme wash your hair." He squeezed a generous amount on the palm of his hand, and Susan dutifully turned around, perplexed. His magic fingers massaged the lather into her scalp and spread it down to her split-ends, all the while with him humming quietly to himself. "I fucking owe you the wash considering how much I'm yanking on your hair, the way I figure it, baby girl."

Relaxing into his touch, Susan closed her eyes to avoid the soap. Her bruised hair follicles were soothed by his touch, and she groaned her approval, leaning back into him. With her back pressed against his chest, she could feel the vibrations of his humming thrum through her. It wasn't annoying, though it nagged at her with its familiarity that she couldn't quite place. "What are you humming, Negan?"

"Oh, it's um, from that George Clooney movie where it's like the Odyssey or something."

" _O Brother, Where Art Thou?_ "

"Shit, yeah, that's the one." Negan moved slightly out of the way so that the spray could rinse out Susan's hair. He was careful not to get any water in her ears, too, taking his time. "Ever since you made that 'Dapper Dan' comment to me, I've been thinking about it. I'm a bit of a movie nut." He cracked the Jolly Rancher between his teeth and swallowed it down until it was gone.

Susan knew she was blushing from him and not the mediocre warmth of the water now. She didn't he'd catch the reference. "Oh, I didn't know you'd be so hung-up on that."

"Don't apologize," Negan cut off before she could, knowing that she was going to. "But I don't mind your cute little nickname for me. I know I'm fucking handsome."

"And vain?" Susan teased, her own Jolly Rancher now gone as well.

Negan's hand slipped through her hair, and tugged ever so slightly on it, a warning. "Don't push your luck, baby doll." Just as smoothly as he tugged, he released her. Susan was still standing there, stunned in place, when Negan dipped down to grab the washcloth and generously soaped it up. It wasn't until he rubbed it over her back that she broke out of her lusty thoughts; he was washing her back. Dutifully, she moved around, lifting her arms and balancing on one leg as he kneeled down to wash her feet. Susan was thrown off by his actions, but he treated it so casually, not even pressing kisses to her skin. It felt so domestic and normal. He wasn't even aroused by this. Just how did she end up here at the end of the world?

On the other hand, she was embarrassed just by how personable this was, and she shamefully found herself wet between her legs from something besides the shower spray. So soon already after getting back into the swing of regular, satisfying sex and she was spoiled by the near instant gratification and mind-blowing orgasms he gave her. Just from the slightest pressure, Susan found herself aroused, as his fingertips trailed over the back of her knees and he pressed the washcloth into the arch of her foot. When he stood back up and trailed the soapy washcloth over her stomach, dipping it slightly into her bellybutton, Susan couldn't help the small groan she released.

Of course, Negan would catch that, and he paused with a smile like the Cheshire cat. "Well, it looks like the water didn't cool you off in the fucking slightest, baby girl." Deliberately, he stroked the washcloth over her nipples, and Susan whimpered. "Don't you worry, baby girl, I'll take care of you. You know I always do."

With that, Susan bit her lip and nodded, giving into her own desires. She spread her legs for him, and Negan chuckled, slipping around her. Hugging her from behind, he had an excellent view from the top down, admiring the swells of her breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach. While he couldn't see beyond that, he didn't need to see it to satisfy her. The hand that held the washcloth pressed against her side, his arm wrapped around her middle just under soapy breasts. The contrast of the soapsuds against her dark brown skin reminded Negan of other things, like how he wanted to paint her with his essence. This time he knew he would, but first her own pleasure must come. His freehand cut a path through the bubbles, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh, how thick and soft she really was. Given how the water was dripping down so becomingly, Negan thought that this was what a cloud must feel like. Then his middle finger slid between her lower lips, and he was drenched in sodden heat as if she were a sauna.

"Damn, you are just an insatiable little fucking minx, huh, baby girl?" Negan chuckled into her ear. The smell of his shampoo in her hair and his soap on her skin was doing wonders for his ego; and it didn't matter if the scents were masculine so long as she smelled like him, he knew she was his. Susan's moans echoed off the tile walls as Negan took his time with her, circling his fingers around her clit and occasionally slipping two fingers inside to curl up against her sweet spot before pulling out again. Susan, insatiable little fucking minx that she was, grinded her generous derriere back into him, and steadily the heat was returning to Negan's ardor as his cock began to swell again. Oh, yes, he had to come on her tits now.

"Spread your legs wider for me, just for me, Susan. You're such a dirty girl for Daddy. Here I fucking was trying to clean you up, and damn you got all hot and bothered. Well, fuck me for trying to be sweet. Shit, you're like a damn bitch in heat, you're so damn hot between your legs and wet. Fucking trust me, too, I can tell the difference between water and soap and your damn pussy juices. I'm intimately familiar with your pussy juices, Susan."

"Oh, Negan," she interrupted his dirty talk, her face flushed with color, and that color reached all the way down to her chest. Her legs were spread open so wide now that one wrong move could have her slipping, but Negan kept her supported easily as he quickened his pace finger-fucking her pussy. The noise was obscene, but music to their ears, familiar and sweet. "Negan," Susan keened, "I'm gonna come, Daddy!"

Moving his head to the side so that she wouldn't slam her head back into his nose when she comes, Negan commanded, "Then come for Daddy on his fingers right fucking now like a good girl."

Right on command, Susan came gloriously, pussy pulsing around his fingers as he fucked her through it and prolonged it. Her scream was high, loud, almost too loud, but Negan loved it. And just as he predicted, Susan had thrown her head back, mouth wide and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Her legs were shaking, thighs and stomach quivering, her hands pinching her nipples desperate just to heighten the pleasure. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," she chanted, and Negan saw tears leak from her closed eyes and drip down her face along with the water from the shower.

"Hush, baby girl," Negan cooed, pleased with himself. He slipped the washcloth down between her legs and soaped her clean, Susan whimpering, but not protesting. The texture of the cloth between her legs was too much, she was overly sensitive, and she whimpered louder, falling back into Negan. "I need you to get on your knees now, baby girl, but don't worry, it won't be for long."

Susan gratefully sunk to the floor of the shower, not minding the pressure on her knees as it grounded her. Besides, after such an intense orgasm like that, she didn't trust her legs to hold her. She didn't look up at him until Negan shifted to block the spray. When she did, she saw his dick hanging hot and heavy right in her face. Her mouth dropped open, and she panted, licking her lips. It looked delicious and she was starving.

"No, no, Susan," Negan began as he wrapped his hand around his cock. It was the same hand he had used to get her off. "I'm too close now for you to do that. I want you to wear Daddy's come. Can you do that for me, baby girl?"

Nodding all too eagerly, Susan assured him, "Yes, Daddy. Paint me white with your come." Batting her eyes at him, Susan kept her mouth open and stuck out her tongue. He could come wherever he wanted, but if some of it was on her tongue, she was going to be very happy with that. She had tasted his come before, and it was good, creamy just how she liked.

"Good fucking girl, Susan," Negan grunted appreciatively and stroked his cock. His other hand balled the soapy washcloth up in his fist and he pressed it against the shower wall, supporting himself. He knew just how to play with himself and get himself off, slipping his hands down to cup his balls for that extra oomph that he needed. Fisting himself over and over, he watched Susan's face. God, her eyes were magnificent and brown, and the soap suds clung to her dark nipples like whipped cream. She looked exactly like a dessert, and the red on her tongue was the cherry on top. With a harsh groan of her name, he spilled himself on her, some of his come catching on her mouth, but most of it ended up on her perfect, heavy breasts just like how he wanted. "Fuck." His hazel eyes shut, and he started breathing heavily.

As he recovered, Susan stood up carefully, her own legs still a little shaky. Thankfully, she didn't slip, and she ducked behind Negan to rinse his come off. His come tasted good, but not when it was mixed with soap. Negan had not move, concentrating on how good that felt and searing the image of her wearing his come on his retinas for jack-off material later, should he need to jack-off rather than fuck a wife.

While he was distracted, Susan repeated his actions from early and soaped up her hands with shampoo, standing on tiptoe to wash his hair. He had hardly noticed what she was doing until she had gently cupped and poured water over his head. Recognizing how it must be hard for her to rinse his hair out when he was so much taller, Negan moved back under the spray, chuckling to himself. "I see what you're doing, Susan. Nice fucking job trying to be romantic with me."

Susan smiled gently as she took the washcloth from him and added more soap to it. He couldn't see her smile since he was facing the opposite direction, but she was smiling anyway. "Well, it's only fair Negan. You washed my back, so now I get to wash yours." With that, she slapped the washcloth on his back and rubbed him down, getting him clean, and Negan let her, picking back up on his humming again. "I know what the song is now," Susan said to him as she passed the washcloth over the tattoo of a cross he had on his arm.

"Yeah, what's the song then, baby girl?"

"Candy Mountain." How fitting after their sex and Jolly Ranchers.


End file.
